


And, well, in summary...

by otfuckingp



Series: And, Well, In Summary [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Again, Agender Character, Agender Peggy, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Angst, Anxiety, College AU, Depression, Fluff, French, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, I guess there is?, I thought I made herc straight but whatever this is fanfic they can all be gay, I wouldnt subject you to that, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Themes, Lafayette/Hercules - Freeform, M/M, Mentions of Violence, Misgendering, Mutual Pining, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Marquis de Lafayette, Pining, Racism, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, everyone is tired of their shit, innuendos, is there mulette in this now?, it's really just to piss herc off, jefferson/laf (past), like if you squint maybe, like really slow burn, lowkey jeffmads, roommates au, so many, thats it guys thats the fic, the main characters are idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:30:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 45,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7344976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otfuckingp/pseuds/otfuckingp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton doesn't really have a good explanation for how any of this happened. It's not like he planned to go to college and fall in love with his roommate. Then again, nobody plans on having John Laurens for a roommate.</p><p>To be fair, John didn't plan for any of this to happen, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hamilton has no chill and it is all Laurens' fault

**Author's Note:**

> Look at this, another college roommates AU that literally nobody asked for but here we are. It's pretty loosely planned, that is to say I have no plan. But it's gonna be cute, so buckle up.
> 
> This started off as half a joke because my friend dared me to. And then I accidentally wrote 10 pages or so. Here's five of them.

Alexander Hamilton was stumbling over himself to get to his dorm. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to finally, finally, have a space that was officially, unquestionably, undeniably his own. Well, his and one other person’s, but that was beside the point. Hopefully he could at least get a quiet roommate, one that could successfully pretend he didn’t exist as Alexander did the same. After an entire lifetime of shared rooms and spaces that felt more as if he was the invader than anything else, a space all his own sounded like heaven.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Alex stepped between the gates to King’s College. He had every right to be here, for once in his life he knew this was where he was meant to be. Nobody could challenge him on it. If that wasn’t the best fucking thing.

Dragging his suitcase and backpack behind him, Alex headed through dorm building 4. Stopping at the front desk, he smiled at the student behind it. They were somewhat taller than him, although that wasn’t saying much, with brown hair obviously cut to look androgynous. They had sparkling brown eyes and an air that told Alex to befriend them, and also to never get on their bad side. Despite Alex’s friendly smile, they looked somewhat affronted to actually be asked to do their job. At least, he assumed the desk that said registration meant “come here if you don’t know what you’re doing”. So he did.

Of course, it could have been the absolute flood of words Alex let forth when he opened his mouth, but hey, you never knew.

“Hi, I’m Alex. Alexander Hamilton. They said this was my building—at least I think that’s what they said. I think I wrote it down, let me just look--” At this he promptly dropped his backpack and began rummaging in his pockets, before cutting himself off and starting again. “Sorry, I must seem a mess. I’m just really excited to be here, but you probably can tell that. Could you tell me where my room is please?”

The person behind the desk, Alex read the nametag Peggy, looked less affronted and more bemused now, smiling slowly as they typed his name into a computer. They rummaged behind the desk, grabbing a key and piece of paper from a row of pigeonholes behind them, before turning to face him. They promptly launched into a rehearsed speech that sounded flat as a board. “Your room is #151, take the elevator and go right, should be on your left side. Here’s your key. The paper is another copy of dorm rules, your RA’s name, your roommate, and other stuff nobody actually bothers to read." With that, they smirked and gave a conspiratorial wink, before speaking normally. "I was nervous too, don't sweat it. You'll be fine." Once again the flat voice returned, "Don’t lose the key, it’s the only one you get.” Alex smiled and nodded but honestly he’d stopped listening somewhere around left side. It was nothing against Peggy, he was just really really excited and couldn’t be bothered to remember everything he was sure would be drilled into his head again during orientation. Absentmindedly, he took the key and paper from them, stuffing them into the top of his backpack before heading for the elevator, suitcase in tow.

He knew that most people had more stuff than this when moving to college, but Alexander didn’t care. He finally had a place of his own to put his stuff, no matter how little stuff he had. In the elevator, Alexander began contemplating--again—just what kind of roommate he wanted, how he wanted this to all work out. Part of him wanted a friend, someone he could make all those fabled college memories with. Also someone that wouldn’t mind his irregular sleeping habits. Part of him was excited at the idea of a roommate that literally didn’t give a shit; they could just go their separate ways. Peace and quiet were Alex’s favorite things in the whole universe, and there was no need for a pesky roommate to disturb this. The elevator dinged, interrupting his train of thought.

Walking down the hall, Alexander counted the doors, looking for his room. He was pretty sure the person behind the desk had said 151. Right?? Sure. 143, 145, 147, 149, 151, ah, here it is! Alexander stopped before door 151. He suddenly found his stomach was full of knots. He took a deep breath, fully aware that the next four years of his life lay behind that door. Metaphorically, it was his gateway to an entire new life, one of friends and memories unlike any other. Alex could already envision hours of all-nighters, piles of textbooks, crumpled notebooks, and parties behind that door. Drunken escapades, shared laughs, and a lifetime’s worth of memories beckoned. There was an entire life waiting for Alex, right behind that door. All he had to do was turn the handle. Hand shaking slightly, Alex reached down and turned the handle, ready to embrace his new life.

It didn’t budge. The door was locked. _Shit._

Just as Alex was about to enter full panic mode, _they hadn’t given him a key yet, or maybe they had but he didn’t remember, did they give him a key?? Probably, he just put it somewhere in his rush, it could be anywhere this might not even be the right number room, he didn’t remember how to get to the main building again, he_ —The door swung open, revealing Alex’s roommate, a broad smile on his face.

Alex came to several realizations at once. The first was that he had a new favorite thing in the universe. Peace and quiet were relegated to second and third. Secondly, Alex knew he was totally fucked. Completely, utterly fucked, and not even in the good way (well, probably). His heart racing, his mouth dry, for the first time in his entire goddamn life, Alexander Hamilton was speechless. The third was that the man before him should not have been allowed to exist. Alex lets his eyes trail over the man’s golden skin, smattered with dark freckles-- _constellations_ ¬, Alex thinks--to his bright green eyes and broad smile, and decides he should definitely be illegal. Nobody that pretty could be allowed to walk around with the rest of them, it was simply unfair. Eyes roaming over the rest of him, Alex drank in the man’s curly brown hair that he absolutely wanted to tangle his fingers in, preferably while he figured out exactly what those gorgeous lips tasted like-- _You don’t even know his name yet, slow down!!_

Suddenly, Alex was ripped from his cute-roommate-induced mental fog as he realized that those lips he had definitely not been staring at were moving. Saying something most likely directed at him.

“S-sorry what?” Alex croaked out, glad he was able to remember that words existed.

Cute Roommate looked momentarily bewildered before repeating himself, and when he did, Alex went weak at the knees. His voice was like nothing Alex had ever heard of, somehow warm and inviting but also sinfully gravelly and low. “I said I’m John. Laurens. I guess you’re my roommate, Alex, right? It was on the sheet. C’mon in.”

Just listening to that voice made Alex pause for a second, trying to remember to make his legs work, before he realized he was supposed to be following Cute Roommate Named John Laurens into their dorm room. Dazedly, he dragged his suitcase into their dorm, taking in the smallish room with a kitchen in one corner, high cinderblock walls, and two beds on opposite sides. The right side was evidently already being lived in. There were posters for various bands, movements, and movies pasted to the walls, the bed was unmade, and Alex was pretty sure he spotted a pair of sweats haphazardly kicked under the bed. There was a corkboard with a small South Carolina ( _I thought I heard a slight accent_ ) flag, a few doodles of turtles, and some photos of John with some little kids—presumably his siblings. Alex was impressed by the posters and how many he recognized, especially of the movements. He saw gems such as _Black Lives Matter, End The Wage Gap_ , and _Raise Minimum Wage_ , before John started speaking again.

“So it seems we’ll be living together for the next while, at least until you get sick of me, so we might as well get to know each other.” Alex decided he could never get sick of John, shaking his proffered hand.

“W-we probably should…” Alex stuttered, again, _since when did he even stutter what the fuck_ , before lapsing into silence. He had literally nothing to say for only the second time in his life, and it was once again John Laurens’ fault. _Oh my god, Alex. Get a grip. He’s going to think you’re the most boring person ever what the fuck just sAY SOMETHING_. Alex jumped to the first thing he could think of, “are those protest posters? That’s pretty awesome, I’ve always wanted to go to one but never got the chance, and civil rights are just so important--” He cut himself off again, not wanting to babble.

“Yeah, they are. The posters I mean, not the civil rights thins, but obviously that too,” With this, John blushed and Alexander decided that the only thing prettier than John Laurens was John Laurens blushing, which promptly gave him a new life mission: make John Laurens blush all the time. John continued, “I mean of course they’re important, that’s why Social Work is my minor. My major is Marine Biology, and those don’t really go together but I don’t care, I couldn’t let either of them go. What about you?”

“PoliSci and Law double Major, with an English Minor. Marine Biology? I guess that explains the turtles then?” Alex gestured to the corkboard. He was impressed with himself; he was actually managing to hold a conversation with possibly the most attractive person ever to exist.

“Sort of, but I also just like drawing turtles. They’re adorable! I mean, so are most things, but turtles especially.”

Alex could think of a few things he wanted to say to that, most of them inappropriate and probably awkward to say to someone you’d just met. Because if John Laurens wasn’t adorable and also cute and hot and every other good adjective ever invented… _.he’s talking again ALEX PAY ATTENTION !_

“…getting kinda hungry, do you want to join me for lunch? I mean you probably don’t, you’d probably rather get unpacked and settled in, but if you don’t I think I remember how to get to the cafeteria from here—“ “John, sure. I can always unpack later, and yes, I’m starving.” _He can’t possibly get any cuter, can he? Oh shut up, Alex, you don’t even know if he swings that way. He doesn’t even know you swing that way. He’s just being nice._ “Well then, let’s go.”


	2. Lafayette Doesn't Understand Slang And It Is Hercules Mulligan's Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Revolutionary Set is formed, yay! Hercules is a menacing teddy bear who can't handle shit. John is exasperated. Alex is confused but so happy to be a part of it, bless him.  
> Lafayette REALLY doesn't understand slang At all.
> 
> Brief mentions of racism and homophobia in the first few paragraphs, nothing major I promise.
> 
> I like dialogue too much, this is 2.5k. I do;t think you guys'll mind too much.

Alex was astonished at how much food was just sitting out on all these tables. You could feed hundreds of people with all this, though he supposed that was the point. There were foods of all kinds, most of which he didn’t even have names for. Breakfast had ended hours ago, but still there were tables full of generic breakfast food like you wouldn’t believe. Alex had never seen this much food all at once, and proceeded to grab as much as the tray could hold, and then some, before going to find John.

John waved him over from a booth tucked in the corner, his mile wide grin stealing Alex’s breath. _He has no idea what he does. Yes, and it’s going to stay that way,_ the rational side of his brain marshalled. Alex made his way across the cafeteria towards John, his knees only slightly shaky. John snorted at the sight of Alex’s tray as he slid into the booth across from him.

“You trying to feed an entire country or something, Hamilton?”

Alex decided he liked the sound of John saying his last name very, very much. _Too much?_ “Nope, just couldn’t believe all the stuff they leave out. I mean; waffles? What’s up with that? It’s four in the afternoon.”

John suddenly sat up ramrod straight, looking Alex dead in the eye. Very seriously, he asked, “Do you really want to contest the value of waffles as a food? Because if you do, I’m not sure we can be friends.”

Alex fidgeted for a second, not quite sure what to say, afraid to say something wrong, before he caught the gleam in John’s eye. They both cracked up, laughing much harder than was necessary. Between gasps of laughter, Alex choked out, “No—I just—Can you possibly eat waffles all the time?”

“I take my waffles very seriously.”

Alex looked, and surely enough, right there on John’s tray, beneath the chicken, was a waffle. He crinkled his nose, kind of grossed out. “Oh wow, you really _are_ from the South. Chicken and waffles?”

John laughed again, a sound Alex would be content hearing for the rest of his life. “The food is basically the only part of the south I brought with me. Except the accent, but I’m working on that.”

“What do you mean?”

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “My father and I, we didn’t exactly get along, like, at all. I’m basically only here because it was the furthest place I could go but still visit my siblings at holidays. And you saw the protest posters. Politically, I didn’t get along with much of anyone either. How many other rich conservative kids in South Carolina were going to agree with me on Black Lives Matter or feminism? I’ll give you a hint, none.”

It was Alex’s turn to shift uncomfortably. He was very familiar with John’s father, South Carolina senator Henry Laurens. The man was toxic, openly racist and homophobic. Very upper-class, to make matter worse. “Shit, dude. That’s rough. I’m so sorry. If it’s any consolation, I agree with your opinions. Actually…” _Did he really want to say this? It’s probably too early, right? I’ve only just made a friend, let’s not ruin it now. No, you don’t want to be friends with someone who’d disagree._

“Actually…?” John prompted with a smile. _Fuck, his smile though._ It seemed he’d already picked up on Alex’s tendency to get lost in his own head. Alex was just glad it didn’t annoy him. _Or, at least, I hope it doesn’t._

Alex took a deep breath, bolstered his nerve. He’d had this happen so often, meeting someone and thinking they were a great person, only to find the worst bit out later. It happened so much, in fact, that he’d decided to be upfront about it from the beginning. It was like ripping off a verbal band-aid, better to get it over with quickly. Just in case. There was less emotional attachment this way. Alex rallied his courage, and began, “I mean, you said you disagreed with a lot of their political opinions, which I’m hoping means you agree with me on this one.”

“Alex, what are you talking about?” John asked, smile dropping. He registered the severity in Alex’s tone.

Gulping, Alex said, “John … I’m bisexual. Always have been, always will be.” Seeing John’s jaw drop, he felt his stomach plummet down to his boots, but continued, “I figure it’s best to get it out of the way early. That way, if it makes you uncomfortable, I know now. I can always get my dorm reassigned or something, but I’d hate to start being friends with you and them find out you’re homophobic months later. I don’t want this to be a problem, at all, so I’m being upfront with you now—“

“Alex!” John cut off the tirade. Actually, it was possible he’d been saying it louder and louder the whole time, and Alex hadn’t noticed. Until now, when John had to practically shout over him. “It’s okay. Really. I get why you’re worried. But really, it’s never bothered me. There were so few people out, back at my high school, not when people would react so badly. I can’t say I really know much about it, just what I used to hear. Most of it came with slurs and flying fists, so I didn’t really ask much. They used to get bullied so terribly, I could never stand to watch that happen to anyone. Especially not for something they couldn’t change.” Alex saw a fire begin behind John’s eyes, one he would come to learn indicated John was very passionate about something. It was gorgeous. “I got it a quite a few fights for that, actually.” With that, John coughed awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, outburst seemingly over.

Alex just grinned, putting on his best Southern drawl. “Oh, my hero.”

John blushed ( _victory!)_ , reaching across the table to punch Alex’s arm with a mumbled “Shut up. I’ll fight you too.”

Laughing; “I’d like to see you try. But no, really, that’s brilliant, you’re brilliant. I’ve had so many people seem like great friends, and then turn out to be all homophobic and gross. But you, oh wow, you’re from the place where internalized homophobia reigns king,” with this, John flinched ever so slightly, “but no, you’re cooler about this than basically anyone I’ve ever met! And I would absolutely love to see that, you beating up some pompous asshat for being a dick.”

“Alex, look at me. My mother was an immigrant from Puerto Rico. I’ve never been ashamed of that, but everyone else thought I should be. Literally everyone I knew was white, and almost all were conservative and racist. You think the LGBT kids were the only ones that ever got bullied?”

Alex’s stomach twisted just at thought of John, _his John—NO not your John you absolute walnut—_ being made to feel like any part of himself was anything less than perfect. It was heart wrenching. “Please tell me you kicked their asses too, before I go down to wherever your high school was and fight them all for your honor, retroactively.” _For his honor? Really Alex? You couldn’t sound any more enamored if you tried. Go on, be more obvious, why don’t you. Oh waiT YOU CAN’T._ John looked slightly startled, if somewhat bemused. He opened his mouth to respond, eyes boring straight into Alex’s soul. When suddenly a large booming voice sounded behind Alex, making him jump.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident Southern Belle?” John grinned and looked up. Alex turned to look too. When he did, he saw possibly the biggest person he’d ever seen, accompanied by a man who was only very slightly shorter. The taller one had close cropped hair under a beanie, and was very a pair of very bright yellow pants. The shorter had very, erm, _big_ hair.

“Herc, man! And Laf! didn’t think you were moving into the dorms until tomorrow! I would’ve texted you!” John jumped up to hug both of them, before they all turned to face him. Alexander decided he felt very small like that sitting under their standing scrutiny, and stood up too. Not that it made much difference. Alex topped out at 5’7 on a very good day, while John was pushing 5’11 at least. Both ‘Herc’ and ‘Laf’ were very easily over 6 foot. Still, it made him feel marginally better.

John began introductions. “Hercules, this is my roommate Alexander Hamilton. Alex, this is my friend Hercules Mulligan. Though I suggest you don’t call him Hercules if you want to keep looking that pretty.” John winked at Alex, making his stomach tie itself in knots. _That was a joke, right? It had to be._ Hercules and Alex shook hands. Hercules smiled warmly at Alex,

“Hercules Mulligan. Fashion major. Please, call me Herc. Like, that’s not a suggestion.”

Alex laughed. “Duly noted. And likewise, please call me Alex, also not a suggestion. I’m taking Polisci, Law, minoring in English. How do you know John?”

“We used to go to this science camp thing together for the summer. Neither of our dads was particularly enthusiastic about having artist kids, if you catch my drift. John used to sit and draw the animals we were supposed to be studying. I liked math only if I thought it applied to unorthodox things. Needless to say, we are both very happy to disappoint our fathers.” Hercules grinned at that, before sitting at the booth, Alex next to him. They turned to face John, already seated and deep in conversation with the so far unintroduced ‘Laf’

Alex caught the tail end of a conversation in rapid French. _Laurens speaks French? Good to know._ Laf was gesturing wildly in that graceful way only captured by politicians, royalty, or the very, very rich. He was talking quite erratically towards John, who somewhat resembled a chastised child. “Mais, non. Tu pense qu’il est tres mignon, oui?”

Alex grinned and cut in. “Je pense que je suis assez mignon. Je m’appelle Alexander, enchante. Et toi?”

Laf looked absolutely delighted, and opened his mouth to reply, before John cut in. “While I am very fascinated by this exchange, how about we switch to English for the benefit of poor Herc over there?” Herc was standing off to the side, looking quite bewildered.

“I took Spanish in high school. Fight me.” Herc said. Alex laughed, before turning to Laf and introducing himself in English this time.

“I’m Alexander Hamilton. John’s roommate. Polisci and Law double major. And you are?”

John grinned and turned to Laf. “Can I say it? Or rather, try?” Laf nodded his assent. “Okay. His name is an absolute mess of French, it’s, Marie-Joseph…Paul…Gilbert De Motier, Marquis De Lafayette…right?”

Lafayette laughed. “You were close, cherie. You forgot Yves Roch. I’ll let it slide, though. Alexander, please, do not try to remember it all. It is a, how you say, mouth full? Yes. I go by Lafayette, or Laf.” Suddenly his eyes hardened. “And if it is not too much trouble, I am nonbinary. I go by they/them pronouns, please.”

Herc leaned in menacingly. “Again, not a suggestion.” Alex gulped, made a mental note of Laf’s pronouns, and another one that was simply ‘do not piss Herc off, ever.’

Alex began nervously, slowly gaining speed to a regular diatribe of his. “O-of course it’s not a problem. Why would it be? I’d be a pretty shitty LGBT member if I couldn’t respect pronouns. That’s a pretty crucial aspect of it. Oh, yeah, I’m bi by the way. I assume that’s not a problem? Respect for LGBT people is absolutely important, even the acronym is problematic! Do you know how many people are ignored by that acronym alone. It’s really—“ He was cut off by Herc chuckling.

Directed at John, “Is he always like this?”

“Absolutely. I’ve known him an hour and this is like, his fifth rant. He got in a ten minute rant on how bad traffic is and why it needs to be addressed, it’s a safety hazard, et cetera, earlier. I agree, but politics is difficult on an empty stomach.” John stuck his tongue out at Alex, making his stomach flip. Again.

Alex squawked indignantly, about to shoot off a retort when Lafayette interrupted what was doubtless going to devolve into a round of bickering. “Well, it seems we are going to be, as they say, quick friends? Fast. Fast friends. I suggest the formation of the...squad…immediately. Give me your telephone, Alex. I need your, how you say, digits?”

John groaned. “I knew it was a bad idea to teach them slang. Herc, why?”

Herc just laughed. “Because it annoys you.”

Alex retrieved his phone from Laf, finding two new contacts as well as a group chat, titled Revolutionary Trio. He presumed that “Hunkules” was probably Hercules, and promptly decided to change Lafayette to Baguette. The last number in the group chat, he simply named Freckles, with a star emoji next to it.

Revolutionary Trio was quickly changed to Revolutionary Set.

Meanwhile, Laf began talking. They said, “I have no roommate, you should all come over later. We can do the hanging out, become better friends. I look forward to making your acquaintance, Alex. Herc has a better Tv, I would say we should go there, but, as John says, his roommate is a…sack of penises?”

John just sighed tiredly. “Bag of dicks, Laf. Bag of dicks.”

Hercules was too busy losing his shit to comment.

Alex had to ask. “Who?”

“Thomas Jefferson. Be glad you haven’t met him.”

“Ah.”

Lafayette suddenly stood, pulling Herc with them. “Herc and I have a class in ten minutes. I will text you all the, ah, the _deets_ later. Farewell, new and old friends!”

Hercules began cackling again, as John swept a hand down his face tiredly. “I knew we shouldn’t have taught them slang. Damn it, Herc.”

Alex laughed before standing as well. “As much fun as this has been, and really it has, Laurens, I should get back to the dorm. I do have to unpack, after all. Do you want to come with? Unless you have a class, or something to do..?” Alex trailed off, suddenly unsure.

“Sure, Alex. I can help you unpack, if you want?”

“By all means, lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hercules is a little shit. John is so done.
> 
> I'm sorry there isn't a ton of lams in this chapter, it does say very slow burn. I'm not too sorry, woops.
> 
> French translations.  
> Mais non. Tu pense qu'il est tres mignon, oui? : But, nothing. You think he's cute, yes?
> 
> Je pense que je suis assez mignon. Je m'appelle Alexander, enchante. Et toi?: I think I'm pretty cute. I'm Alexander, nice to meet you. You are?


	3. Alex Is Turned On And He Blames John Laurens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Right but this chapter title could probably describe the whole story so far? Woops.
> 
> This was going to be the Squad formation chapter, but instead we got John and Alex domesticity and antics in their dorm. Fluff.

As they reentered their dorm, Alex heard John ask, “Do you mind if I change real fast? Any time spent that is not spent in sweatpants is most likely time wasted.” Swallowing down the innuendo that sprang to the tip of his tongue, Alex gave a noise vaguely resembling an affirmative. He wasn’t really paying attention; more focused on opening the stubborn zipper on his suitcase. The poor thing was battered and quite old, having been rescued from a thrift shop a few weeks previous. One of the handles was hanging on by a thread, the other completely gone. The fabric had holes in it. But it had done its job, which was all Alex cared about.

It took a couple seconds, but Alex finally managed to yank the zipper open. He didn’t think he’d be able to close it again, but that was a whole other can of worms. He turned to ask John how much of the dresser he could have—the dorm only had one—not that’d he’d need much of it. And then he caught sight of John, and the words died in his throat. _Holy shit._

There wasn’t much else to be said about it, really. John was, well, Alexander didn’t have words. He was in the process of changing shirts, having already thrown on sweats. And he was _shirtless._ Alex observed only a quick glimpse before he turned his eyes away, respectfully facing the back wall. This was quite a day for fundamental realizations, as he quickly made a few more.

1, John was seemingly covered in freckles, not just on his face. This was important.

2, His roommate was _fucking hot._ Not that he hadn’t already known that, but it was only further confirmed now. Alex hadn’t looked for long, but the lingering picture in his head was enough to make his face feel hot and his skin too tight. John was long and lean, with abs that Alex was both willing to kill or die for. It was evident that John worked out. _Now that was a fantasy. John, just returned from the gym or perhaps a sports practice, he must do a sport to look like that, right? I should ask. He was shirtless, with water from a shower maybe, or just sweat, running in rivulets down those washboard abs of his. Alex decided he wanted to lic—DEAR GOD SToP HE IS LiTEralLY TWO FEET FROM YOU_

And then came the third and final realization. Probably the most important one. **This was his life now.** The two of them lived together, and they were going to for the next several months, if not years. It was basically a given that the two would see each other changing, shirtless, naked, the works. _Oh my god, I’m going to die._

“And they say chivalry is dead.” John chortled, effectively snapping Alex out of his John-induced reverie. Alex coughed awkwardly.

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Especially since…” _Now where were you going with that sentence, Alex? Since I might stare at you? Since I think you’re incredibly hot and don’t want to ogle? Since I’m like, halfway in love with you after only a few hours? Cmon, get more obvious, I dare you._

“It’s okay. I don’t mind, really.” John said warmly. “Also, you can turn around now. I am respectably dressed.”

Face probably bordering somewhere on scarlet, Alex turned around to face John, who was sitting on the bed facing him. “Do you still want help unpacking?” John asked, gesturing to the open suitcase behind him.

“Yes, please.” Alex said enthusiastically. “I’ve got no idea where half this stuff goes. Frankly I’ve got no idea what half this stuff is, my foster mom bought a ton of stuff for me and then handed me a mostly-full suitcase. Those two halves may be mutually inclusive.” As he spoke, Alex started rummaging around in his suitcase, trying to determine what exactly was in it. He pulled out what appeared to be a fitted sheet, a shower caddy, and some sweaters before freezing. _Sweet Jesus._

John, who had been rambling about his own move in to college the week before, stopped as he noticed Alex still. “What is it?” He asked, concerned.

Alex didn’t even know how to begin to address this. “Holy shit.” He managed to croak out. “But why, Abigail” He looked up at John, a look of abject horror on his face. “John,” He whispered.

“Yeah, Alex?” John whispered back, grinning. He figured this was probably a humorous situation.

“My foster mom packed me condoms.”

John fell apart. He keeled over on the bed, side splitting with laughter. It was quite a sight to behold really, or at least Alex thought so. Head thrown back, pillowed on those marvelous curls, eyes scrunched up, he was beautiful. Or, at least, he would have been, had his laughter not come at the expense of Alex’s mortification.

John quickly sat up, still laughing, and made his way over to Alex’s bed. He had to see this for himself. Surely enough, there was a box of condoms sitting at the very bottom of the suitcase. He reached in and grabbed the box, and on seeing the underside, promptly died of laughter again. This time, right next to Alex.

While Alex was acutely aware of John’s proximity to him, he was more curious to know what else could possibly be so funny. He chanced a look, and decided that right now was a good time to die. Because, stuck to the bottom of the box, was a sticky note. From his foster mother. It read,

_Safe sex is the best sex! Hope you enjoy college; I do not expect to be a grandmother yet! XOXO, Abigail._

Alex was pretty sure he was ready to die. John was still laughing. It took a while for John to pull himself together. The absolute hilarity of the situation was just too much to handle. Eventually though, he was able to actually sit up and act like a normal human being. Well, a normal John Laurens. “Oh my God, Alex.” He whispered.

Alex was busy tearing apart the little sticky note and throwing the shreds on the floor. When that was finished, he proceeded to grab the box and throw it under his bed. He touched it as little as he possibly could, as if it would burn him. “We are never going to speak of this again, okay?” He sounded vaguely as if he was trying not to crack up himself.

“Well hey, at least she cares, Alex” He said with a grin.  
“Nope, never speaking of it.”

“It was quite nice of her really, and she’s righ—“

“You can stop at any time now. Please, feel free.”

“It is very important.”

“I hate you.”

John cracked up again. Alex spent a few minutes ignoring him, putting away the contents of his backpack. His books and notebooks and writing pads and pens went on the desk by the foot of his bed, already basically covering the surface. By the time he had finished that, John had managed to pull himself together. Again. “Alright, I promise I’ll actually be helpful now. I’m done. Probably.” With this, he gave Alex another thousand-watt grin. Alex pretended his knees didn’t wobble at the sight.

“Okay, well, if you don’t mind telling me how many drawers I can use, I’ll put my clothes away in the dresser. You can figure out whatever the hell that thing is,” Alex said. He gestured to a tangled wad of fabric he assumed was meant for the bed. As such, it was bundled up and thrown there.

John smirked, “Look at you, being all in charge, dominant n shit. I like you like this.” Once again, Alex pretended his knees didn’t threaten to give out, while his mind was racing. _Whatwhatwhat he didn’t mean that the way it sounded did he because holyshit I will definitely take him up on that but he was just kidding right or I definitely misinterpreted right like he just meant because I’m not as shy as I came off as that has to be it oh my god what the fuck what the fuck…_

John continued. “You can have as much of the dresser as you need, I prefer the closet." With this, he gestured to the small closet on his side of the room which Alex had not previously noticed.

Alex swallowed thickly, before nodding. “Thank you. I’ll just uh—I’ll do that then.” He busied himself with grabbing clothes and refolding them before placing them into various drawers, in an organizing system that mystified John.

Meanwhile, John turned to the tangled mess of fabric on the bed. He was hoping it was just a top sheet, those were easy enough to deal with. To his dismay, he soon found the telltale strip of elastic. It was a fitted sheet. Things just got a lot harder. _Ugh._ While he worked on detangling the thing, he said to Alex, “So, let’s do the introductions thing then. You tell me something, I’ll tell you something.”

Alex mulled it over for a second, then said, “Well, if you didn’t catch on when I said foster mother, both of my parents are dead.” John had just finished straightening out the sheet, and began attaching the first corner. He replied,

“My mom is, too. I was really little, and I didn’t even fully understand it until I was about 10 or so. I miss her, though. My dad wasn’t exactly the _parental_ type.” Second corner was complete.

Alex smiled ruefully, not that John could see it. “Yeah, neither was the foster system. They tried real hard to keep me out of it, wound up tracking down some cousin I’d never even met before, dumped me with him.”

“What happened?” Now came the hard part, getting the top corners while still keeping the lower two attached. John tackled this problem by literally tackling it. He placed both feet on the mattress to hold the bottom corners, stretching forward to reach the other two.

Across the room, Alex was trying very hard not to crack up, witnessing John’s ‘practical’ solution. He smiled bitterly, remembering he was supposed to tell the story of his cousin. “He, uh, he committed suicide. I hadn’t even been there two months.”

John was about to respond with sympathy, he really was, but then the bedsheet situation all went south very quickly. Now, John was tall, but he wasn’t quite ‘stretch-vertically-across-a-six-foot-mattress’ tall. This hiccup manifested itself in the form of John falling on his face on the mattress just before he secured the last corner. He lay there, spread-eagled on the bed, accepting his defeat. As if it was mocking him, the three secured corners of the sheet decided to spring up and bunch around his hands, fully cementing its victory.

Alex took one look at the disaster that was John vs. Bedsheet and promptly burst out laughing. Pulling himself together, he managed, “Well, look at you, all spread out like this. If you wanted in my bed, all you had to do was ask, Laurens.” At the beginning, he was joking, he really was, but by the time he finished that sentence, he was practically purring. He couldn’t help but imagine other situations in which he might say something like that, and _fuck, that was exciting._ Even from his position across the room, even with Laurens facing downwards, Alex could see him shiver. _Nice going, Alex. You creeped him out. Brilliant. Stop talking about fucking him when he doesn’t even swing that way. Ugh. You’re being weird. Ew._

Quickly, Alex laughed, to cover up how he actually felt. And what was actually going on in his head. John joined him, if somewhat reluctantly.

Alex was saved from having to salvage the situation by his phone chiming loudly. Across the room, Laurens’ hone buzzed too. He presumed it was the group chat. He was right.

 

**Baguette--You all are coming to my dorm tonight, non?**

**Hunkules--I’m there**

**Freckles--Ham n’ I are too**

**Ham--You don’t speak for me, freckles.**

**…Yes, I’m coming.**

**Baguette--Excellent. Dorm building A, next to the chemistry building. Room 1286. Be there at 20:00**

**Hunkules--20? That's a number not a time**

**Baguette--I'm sorry, I forget you _cochonnes_ use 12 hour time. It is not my fault with the understanding this time. 8.**

**Ham--Get it together Herc you just subtract 12.**

**Freckles--Alex stopppp classes don't start for a week, no math yetttt.**

**Hunkules--I'm with John here.**

**Ham--I surrender.**

**Baguette--So no more of the confusions? You are all at my room at ...8.**

**Ham--Thanks for distracting them, Laf. My hero.**

**Freckles--What r we even gonna do?**

**Freckles--Wait Alex I was your hero remember?**

**Hunkules--Movies? Games? Alcohol?**

**Ham--Well now Laf is.**

**Freckles--Yes, Yes, and YES**

**Freckles--I see how it is Ham. You give that title to just ANYONE then?**

**Hunkules--What movies**

**Ham--No John you just have to regain my affection ;)**

**Hunkules—So long as it’s not Hercules**

**Freckles--Oh I see how it is ;)**

**Baguette--Les Mis**

**Baguette--Guys, Pls, as they say, find a bedroom**

**Hunkules--Laf they're probably eyefucking as it is, be glad they're in their own room**

**Ham--We have our own room thanks very much**

Hercules was right. At least, on Alex's end. John was pretty oblivious, smirking down at his phone.

**Freckles—Damn it Laf that’s not even a movie it’s a musical**

**Baguette—No it’s not it’s my sexuality**

**Baguette--I'm confused. They are...having sex with an eyeball? What?**

**Freckles—But Disney is classic! The Lion King!**

**Hunkules—I will accept Lion King**

**Hunkules--LAF NO**

**Hunkules--I'LL EXPLAIN LATER**

**Ham—Princess Bride?**

**Freckles—YES THAT’S NOT DISNEY BUT YES**

**Baguette—Netflix and Herc’s secret Disney collections are ready for you, amis.**

**Freckles—Don’t forget the booze. Crucial.**

**Hunkules—Ditto.**

**Ham—Same.**

**Baguette—Obviously.**

 

And so it was decided. With much fumbling, confusions, flirting, more failed slang, and some sexual tension. It was decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is probably just in it for the booze. (And the Alex, but don't tell him that).


	4. Hercules Is Done With All Their Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Alex have a moment.  
> The Squad(tm) is formed.  
> Hercules hates them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa okay so this chapter is a monster, clocking in just shy of 4k. I don't think you guys will mind. I wanted to make it shorter and get the things happening earlier, but John and Alex wanted to keep making bedroom eyes. I regret nothing.

An hour after the Great Text Flirting Event Oh God Was That Flirting, Alex found himself sitting on his now-successfully-made bed. It had taken the combined efforts of both boys, several more falls from John, one threat of shredding the damn thing from Alexander, and some assistance from Google, but it was done. The fitted sheet was fully secure, and Alex’s bed was piled high with pillows and blankets. One or two may or may not have been forcefully thrust upon him by John, but still. Alex felt accomplished. And if he was maybe freaking out a little bit because the blanket smelled like John, well, nobody needed to know.

Alex and John sat on their respective beds, facing one another. They were currently ankle-deep in a game of would-you-rather-slash-marry-fuck-kill that had long since lost all direction or sense. That probably made it better. Both boys had laughed so hard their sides ached. It was currently John’s turn to ask, but they were both too busy laughing to remind each other.

“What do you mean you’d bang Abraham Lincoln?” John could barely even get the words out.

Alex grinned. “You _wouldn’t?_ Baberaham Lincoln is too good for you?”

This set them off once again.

Eventually, John pulled himself together enough to say, “Alright. You’re gonna hate me for this one. Probably have a full on,” with this he paused for emphasis, raising an eyebrow to signal the no doubt terrible pun that was incoming, “ _Chrisis_.” Alex groaned.

“I literally hate you, I already know what you’re going to ask and I hate you. A lot.”

John grinned evilly. “Marvel is basically created for this purpose. Chris Hemsworth, Chris Evans, Chris Pratt.” He barely finished the sentence before he cracked up again.

Alex, “But how could I kill any one of those perfect specimens?” John just kept laughing. “Oh, I see how it is. Laugh at my pain. Got it.”

John laughed harder, “I’m not sorry.”

Alex grumbled playfully, “You fucking should be. Shut up with your laughing, right now. You don’t know what it’s _like,_ watching those movies as a partially gay man. Literally impossible.” Alex thought he heard John’s sharp intake of breath between laughs, but dismissed it. He was laughing really hard, after all.

“UUUUuuuuuuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmm” Alex groaned. “This is unfathomable. Ugh. I guess I’d kill Pratt, let the velociraptors roam free.”

John made a noise of assent. “Dinosaurs are pretty cool.”

Alex continued, “Uh, I guess I’d fuck Hemsworth. But not like, a one night stand. Bro is too good for that, more like a two or three night stand, mmmmmmm.”

John made a face, “Ugh, Alex, do you need me to leave for a second?” He laughed again, this time quite evilly.

Alex pretended to think about it. John threw a pillow at him.

“So then you’re marrying Evans?”

“Hell fucking yes, have you _seen_ his biceps? Plus, he’s got that All-American boy thing going for him. He’d make a lovely husband.”

John grinned, “Yes, because I’m sure that whatever you’re thinking about right now is absolutely wholesome.”  
It was Alex’s turn to throw a pillow. Not that John was wrong in the slightest. Except in Alexander’s mind, Chris Evans had long curly hair, hazel eyes, and freckles. Okay so it wasn’t Chris Evans. Sue him.

Laughing once more, John pulled himself to his feet. “We’ve only got about half an hour before we have to be at Laf’s, their dorm is quite far across campus. Do you want me to make coffee?”

“While I would never normally turn down coffee, I feel the need to point out that it’s, like, 7.”

John just smiled ruefully. “One thing you learn after a few nights at Laf’s house, is that you never sleep. Honestly I don’t think I’ve ever seen them sleep, or even get tired. They’re definitely, like, an alien or something.”

Alex grinned. “Well then, sign me the fuck up. Laf and I should start a club, ‘officially-gets-no-sleep’. All you normal tired weirdos aren’t invited.”

John turned around to grab the coffee pot off a high shelf, talking all the while. “Well then, I see how it is. Have your meetings at midnight, that way nobody with half a brain will mind missing it.”

Alex tried to pay attention, really he did. But when Laurens reached up to grab the coffee pot, the edge of his shirt rode up, exposing his stomach. Any and all rational thought promptly flew out of Alex’s brain. Laurens only became more infuriatingly attractive when he bent forward and gracefully scooped his hair into a ponytail, just the act of using a simple hair elastic somehow managing to tame  his hair, the epitome of a lion's mane. He looked over at Alex to see him pulling a face of an unreadable nature. "What?" He asked, self-consciously.

Alexander, meanwhile, was in awe. How on Earth could someone manage to be so pretty both while in a ponytail and not? Alex felt he regularly looked like a misshapen potato while his hair was up, and often left it down because of this. Yet here was John fucking Laurens looking perfect, as per frickin usual. It was simply unfair, and only provided further proof that John was in fact an alien or celestial being of some sort.

Alex was startled out of his train of thought by John looking at him curiously. Quickly, he schooled his features into an expression resembling mirth, and snickered. "You have a sticky-up," he said, moving closer to John to tug lightly on the stray piece of hair poking out of the top of his ponytail. He then spent several seconds convincing his heartbeat that being just a bit closer to John was in fact not a big deal. Predictably, he failed, and was convinced John could hear his heart pounding.

"Yeah I know, it's from that little short piece here" John lightly tapped the front of his forehead where a particularly short curl usually hung. "Usually it falls right out of ponytails, guess I got lucky this time." This movement caused John to move his head downward just a little bit. It really shouldn’t have been an issue, Alex noted, except for the part where they were standing close enough that he could now feel John’s breath ghosting across his lips. Except for the part where John didn’t even know what that was doing to Alex. Except for the part where John didn’t know what was running through Alex’s mind at the time. A small mercy, really.

John did not, in fact, appear to be able to hear Alex’s heart beating out of his chest. He also didn’t seem to notice how close the two were standing, but continued to stare right at Alex, making his stomach do gross flippy things.

Alexander was very familiar with this particular curl. It was the one that always hung in John's eyes and bobbed around when he moved. The one Alexander longed to gently move off John's face and tuck behind his ear like people did in the movies. Longed to brush it out of his eyes, to use as a perfect segue to cup his cheek and pull him close. Longed to just give in to the pull for once and let their lips meet the way he’d always imagined….Hamilton lost himself in the reverie.

 _Well why don’t you?_ The reckless side of his brain questioned. _He’s right there, you could just—_ The rational side of his brain promptly squashed this idea. _And lose his friendship? Yeah, good idea. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius?_

Outside of the battle going on in his head, Alex noticed the moment stretching. They were standing barely inches apart. The entire room felt like a furnace, there was no air in there. Had it always been this hot in there? Alex belatedly realized hand was still in John’s hair. More importantly, John’s eyes were still boring right into his, wide and dark and full of _something. Probably confusion. Why are we standing so close still?_ Alex realized this was probably the moment he was supposed to move his hand away from John, step back, let the moment snap. He did no such thing.

John was standing stock still, one hand half-raised towards his ponytail, the other still by his side. They were close enough that Alexander could count his freckles, see the slight pattern of green in his brown eyes. The most interesting part was the blush lightly dusting his cheeks, making his freckles stand out that much more. _Alex stop it you’re definitely freaking him out you weirdo, he’s embarrassed because he doesn’t know how to react sTOP._

Alexander was about to say something, step away, move, do something. He really was. But then John’s hand fell from his ponytail to lightly tug at the ends of Alex’s hair, and rational thought once again abandoned him. What were words again? He didn’t know.

And then John started whispering lowly, and Alex’s entire body caught fire. “Honestly. I’m jealous. Your hair is all straight and soft, I bet it has no trouble in ponytails. Unlike this mess.” John wasn’t saying anything even remotely sexual or enticing, but the heady combination of his voice and his proximity was certainly, ah, _exciting._ He saw John’s eyes darken, and felt himself leaning imperceptibly closer, about to do something _incredibly stupid_ …

Someone knocked at the door. The moment snapped. John and Alex jumped apart, faces aflame. Alex was relieved; he had been about to do something so reckless and moronic that it made his head spin. _Was I really about to..? God, I'm so stupid, he probably doesn't even swing that way._ _I don’t know who’s behind that door, but I kind of need to hug them right now. They kept me from being an idiot._ John coughed awkwardly, and went back to making coffee. Alex went to answer the door. He figured they’d talk about it later.

They didn’t.

-

Hercules _Herc,_ Alexander amended mentally, was behind the door. Alex was confused.  
“What’re you doing here? Not that I’m upset or anything, just I thought we were gonna meet at Laf’s in like—“ He glanced at the clock, “Fifteen minutes.”  _Had he and John really been staring at each other for that long?_

Herc sighed. “Yeah, I know, man, but I had to get out of there. Any minute more I had to spend in a room with Jefferson was one minute closer to becoming a murderer.”

“I don’t know this guy yet, but I already hate him. What did he do, exactly?” Alex asked, ready to fight this Jefferson. Anyone who upset his friend was someone he needed to fight.

Hercules just chuckled. “You’re a regular firebrand, aren’t you? Oh, he just kept saying dumb homophobic shit. Like how since I’m a fashion major, I must be a fairy or some shit like that, as if sequins have the ability to ‘turn someone gay’. It’s nearly ironic, since I’m the only one of us that’s—“

“Hey, Herc, man! What’re you doing here?” John cut in, an edge of panic creeping into his voice.

Alex didn’t hear it, he was too busy seething. “Alright. I’m gonna fight that fucker. Where’s your dorm?”

Herc’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at John’s exclamation, but he said nothing about it. “It doesn’t matter. It just pissed me off, especially since it’s a dumb stereotype. I’m straight as a board.”

Laurens sidled up next to Alex and handed him a mug of coffee. Instantly, Alex’s temper delflated at the feeling of John right next to him. _A calming presence,_ he mused, _I could do with one of those._

They both watched Herc pace up and down their tiny living-room-designated-area. He was ranting almost indecipherably about Jefferson, something he had obviously been holding in for a while. John and Alex just sipped their coffee calmly, observing and occasionally calling out agreements. With each passing second, Alex hated this guy more and more. Strangely, he didn’t feel like blowing up. He pretended it had nothing to do with the freckled boy next to him, gently leaning against his side.

Eventually, Herc blew off enough steam to look up, realizing what time it was. “Shit, guys, I didn’t mean to hold you up. It’s nearly 8 now. Do you want to get going?”

John and Alex put down their now-empty coffee mugs, and nodded their assent. “Lets.”

`

It may have only been the first week of September, but Alex was _cold._ The walk to Laf’s had been short, but he had been unprepared. Back home in the Caribbean, it never got below 70 degrees. Anything less than that made his warm-blooded self shiver. It was currently hovering just above 50. For late at night in New York during the fall, it wasn’t that bad, but Alex was still very uncomfortable with it.

Lafayette was busy in the kitchen, grabbing bowls of chips and popcorn, as well as the stack of movies they’d all agreed upon. Hercules had taken command of the easy chair in the corner, so John and Alex were left to share the couch. John was sitting sideways with his feet in Alex’s lap— _boi, do you have no respect for proper space usage—_ but Alex didn’t really mind. The slight contact made his face heat up, so at least he was slightly less cold.

_But hey, I have a better idea._

“Joooooooooooohhhhhnnnnnnnn” he whined, turning to bury his head into the taller man’s side. Unfortunately, he forgot about that fun thing called height difference, and instead would up flopping over into John’s legs.

Alex couldn’t see him, but just from the sound of Laurens’ voice, Alex knew he was trying not to laugh. “What is it, Alexander?” Alex tried not to let the way John said his name make him shiver. Unsurprisingly, he failed.

“I’m coooolllddddd,” He whined, somewhat like a small child. “I hate New York weatherrrrrr.”

This time John really did laugh. “Dude, it’s only just September. How are you going to survive the rest of winter if you’re already cold?” Even so, Alex didn’t miss the way John’s hand came down to stroke lightly up his back, leaving behind a trail of fire against Alex’s skin. Alex shivered. Again.

Before either of the two men could react or even begin to process that, Laurens was hit in the face with a flying pillow, accompanied by the sound of Herc’s loud complaint, “Hey, lovebirds, get a room!”

Alex began sputtering and protesting, sitting up to fight Herc, whether verbally or physically he didn’t know yet. Quite suddenly, he felt an arm wrap around his waist, pulling him into their side.  _John’s_ side. Once again, as was wont to happen around Laurens, Alex’s mind went blank, except for an endless stream of _JohnJohnJOhnJohnJohn._ Dimly, he was aware of someone saying,

“You’ll notice, Herc, that we did in fact have a room before you so rudely barged in on us.” That was John’s voice. _He didn’t mean…_

 _“You don’t mean…”_ Herc said, echoing Alex’s thoughts. There was a vague look of shock on his face., mixed with what looked like disgust.

Laurens looked deadly serious.

“Oh, _gross._ Right, next time I’ll just go to Laf’s, then.” Now Herc definitely looked disgusted.

Laurens burst out laughing. “Nah, man, I’m just fucking with you.” Alex noticed, however, that his arm had not left Alex’s waist, and they were both now cuddled together on the couch. He was pretty sure his brain was also about to short-circuit, but whatever. Before he could make any move to acknowledge this or possibly run away screaming so he didn’t do anything embarrassing, Laf plopped down on the sofa next to them, effectively trapping Alex. _Well, fuck._

Laf looked bemused, if somewhat lost. They set down a bowl of popcorn and a bowl of chips on the coffee table, asking, “I heard my name, what have I missed?”

John grinned, “You missed me teaching Herc a lesson about making fun of me.”

Laf laughed quietly to themselves. “He definitely needs some of those, good one, Laurens.”

Herc grumbled, but didn’t contradict them. Alex pointed this out, and was treated to another pillow to the face. “Ha, jokes on you! Now you don’t have any pillows left!” John stuck out his tongue at Herc to accompany Alex’s statement. Herc just gave a shit-eating grin and said,

“You don’t even need a pillow, Hamilton. You’ve got Laurens.”

Lafayette cracked up, throwing their head back. “He has a point, amis.”

John and Alex looked at each other for a split second, in total agreement. They didn’t even need to say anything before two pillows went flying, one at Laf, and one at Herc. The John aimed at Herc hit him so hard he toppled over backwards off the chair, setting off another round of laughter.

Lafayette hid  behind the sofa, screaming something about not messing up their hair. Alex understood. Laf’s hair was _beautiful._

-

Two hours later found them all on the floor, sitting (or in John’s case, lying) in a circle. They had worked their way through Princess Bride and all of the chips. Somewhat regretfully, as now Herc wouldn’t stop pretending to offer people peanuts, and Laf was doing a rather good Inigo Montoya impression.

John interrupted some time later, “While this is delightfully entertaining, really it is, I do believe we were promised alcohol?” Lafayette stopped mid-flourish, groaning.

“I had hoped you would forget about that, John.” They said, shaking their head.

John grinned impishly, “I never forget where alcohol is concerned…” He made a face, “Well, scratch that. I never forget _before_ I’ve had the alcohol. After that, no promises.”

Alex poked his side teasingly. “I should’ve know you couldn’t hold your liquor, Laurens.”

Laurens looked him dead in the eye, and asked with a smirk, “Is that a challenge, Hamilton?” Instantly, both of their competitive sides came out, and Alex knew it was going to be a fun night.

Lafayette looked on with interest. “I am sensing we have a competition in the works, non? For that, I will get out the god stuff.” To themselves, they muttered, “Ces imbeciles vont regretter le matin.”

John cheered.

Alex snorted. “Laf, you forget that three of us speak French. I should be offended, but let’s be honest, you’re probably right.”

They looked concerned. “Do you not want me to get it, then?”

Alex grinned sharply. “Oh, no. I am going to destroy Laurens if it’s the last thing I do.” Laf went to the kitchen to grab the supplies, but not before raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Hercules snorted, raising an eyebrow of his own.

John flushed a deep red, his freckles standing out vividly.

Alex was mortified. _“Guys!_ Not like that, I just, I—agh.” He gave up, burying his head in John’s shoulder. He was not met with sympathy.

“Sorry dude, you made your bed, now lie in it.” Alex glared.

“You made my bed.” John flushed even redder, if that was possible, and Alex cackled.

Herc joined him with, “And I thought you’d be doing the lying?”

At least they were both mortified now. From the kitchen, they heard the distinct noise of Lafayette trying and failing to hold in a derisive snort of their own.

-

“Okay, your turn, Herc.”

“Alright.” Nobody missed the hint of evil in his tone, even if it was playful. “Never have I ever…had a boyfriend.”

There was the distinct sound of two people groaning, and Herc’s maniacal laughter. Alex and Laf downed their shots simultaneously. Alex did not miss the way John’s shot glass stayed put. _Well, if that doesn’t answer that question._ He was slightly too drunk to hear the sound of his own heart breaking.

“That’s no fair, Herc! You’re straight! It is not like I would say never have I had a girlf—wait.” Lafayette tried to defend themselves, but stopped short, groaning. “I do not like you so much right now.”

Everyone but Laf burst into giggles. And if Alex’s heart swelled at the sight of John, cheeks slightly flushed and shoulders shaking as he laughed, well, nobody needed to know.

“Well, John, since you didn’t drink, it’s your turn now.” Hercules interrupted their giggles. He was probably the least drunk of all of them, which was a good thing. They needed a marshalling force right now.

John grinned evilly. “Oh Laf, you’re going to hate me for this one.”

Lafayette groaned, then squared their shoulders. “Do your worst, Laurens.” Alex tried not to giggle at how pronounced Laf’s French accent became when they were drunk. He was barely intelligible.

“Never have I ever…” Laurens paused for emphasis, drawing out the tension and the look of horror on Laf’s face, “Had sex with Thomas Jefferson.”

Hercules’ eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “You did WHAT with WHO NOW?” He practically bellowed, then fell over spluttering. Hamilton was cackling again.

John had that look on his face that said, “Yeah, that’s right, fuckers, I knew and you didn’t. Also I’m disgusted.”

Lafayette didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, merely said, “What, is this lets-get-Laf-drunk-night?” Before mournfully downing yet another shot of—

Come to think of it, Alex had no idea what they were drinking. He figured his headache would hate him for that in the morning. But back to the more pressing matters.

Hercules regained his breath and demanded, “Alright, nope. You’re not getting off the hook that easily. Spill. Right now.”

Lafayette said, “He was an, how you say, exchange student in France. He was very pretty. I was very drunk. We are the moving on now, yes?”

John smiled evilly, “Oh, come now, Laf, we both know there’s more to that story.”

Laf sent a glare John’s way that, if looks could kill, would probably have murdered them all by now. “Oui, c’est un altre storie q’est en confidance, cochon.”

“Secret’s out now, Laf.”

Hercules’ eyes bugged out of his head as realization struck. “But Laf, he basically looks just like you!”

Lafayette smirked. “Not all of him.”

Alex felt slightly nauseous. Hercules shrieked, “Oh, HELL NAW. You mean I have to go back to my dorm with that fucker tomorrow, and you just made me think about his _dick?_ No way. Fuck you, Laf!”

“He, how you say, beat you to it?”

More spluttering, complete with John and Alex falling over each other laughing. Somehow they ended with Alex’s head tucked into John’s side and John’s arm around his waist, but both were too drunk to care at that point.

John slurred, “Tell the rest of the story, Laf.”

Hercules interrupted, “No, please, do not tell the story, Laf. For the sake of my tenuous grasp on sanity.”

“I for one, would quite like to hear the story, if only as future blackmail.” Alex voiced his opinion from the safety of John’s side, burying his head into John to hide before Laf could unleash their death stare.

Lafayette gave them all yet another murderous glare. “There is not much to tell. We had the, how you say, intercourse with disgust, just when he left.”

John chuckled. “You know damn well it’s called hate sex, Laf.”

Hercules threw up his hands. “I am officially done for the night, goodbye.” He stood up to the background of John and Alex cackling, Lafayette wobbling after him.

Lafayette turned back to the boys on the floor, about to say they could sleep on the couches or the spare bed, but the words died in their throat as they saw the two. They had both passed out, sound asleep, in the time it took them to stand up. Alex was curled into John's side. Laurens had an arm thrown protectively over him. Dimly, Laf thought that they were glad the two had hit it off so well. They were not going to say anything to Laurens on the subject, but they were glad he had become more comfortable with himself, and evidently, Alex. Laf had the presence of mind to throw a blanket over the two of them and take a picture on their cell phone, before tottering off to find Hercules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kind of sorry for subjecting you to the concept of Lafayette/Jefferson. But it was too good to leave out.
> 
> If you guys have any ideas or theories or things you'd like to see please let me know. I live for your comments and kudos, it really means the world to me.
> 
> Also, what do you mean nearly 300 people have read this??? What!!! I love you all!!! Ahhh!!!
> 
> French translations:  
> Ces imbeciles vont regretter le matin--Those idiots will regret it in the morning.  
> Oui, c’est un altre storie q’est en confidance, cochon--Yes, another story which is private, pig.


	5. Lafayette Makes A Mean Pancake And John Laurens Is Indignant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a short fluff piece of the Squad(tm) having breakfast but then I got carried away and now its nearly 3k. 
> 
> The morning after. Hangovers and bickering, and more heart eyes from the resident idiots. Alexander remains oblivious and pining, Hercules and Laf are tempted to take pity on him but settle for shovel talk. 
> 
> yay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes I am so sorry this took so long to update. I'm working through some shit right now, my personal life is a tidal wave of chaos and angst. I'll spare you the details. 
> 
> Then 4th of July and writers block bitchslapped me at the same time and nothing productive happened. I hope you all enjoyed your holidays and were safe!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this even though it;s a little late!

Alex woke with a throbbing headache. He was dimly aware of an intense heat pressed to his back, something heavy slung around his waist, something tangled with his legs. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but he was sure it was _definitely_ too early to be puzzling it out. Especially not when he felt the way he did. _Goddamn, what did Lafayette even give us?_  Instead, Alexander opted for moving further back into the warmth, emitting a noise of contentment, and closing his eyes.

Then he felt someone’s warm breath on the back of his neck, and was promptly very, very awake. A slow monotonous roll of _ohshitohshitohshit_ began in his head, competing with his headache for Reasons Alexander Wanted To Die. This certainly, ah, affected things.

It wasn’t as if this was the first time this had happened, waking up in an unidentified embrace after a night of drinking. Especially when Alex couldn’t exactly remember what had transpired the night before. It was just, there were only 3 people the arms around him could have belonged to. Judging by the litany of freckles in view, Alex was _fucked._ Maybe literally this time? _Oh fuck._

That was _John_ pressed against his back, _John’s_ arm slung protectively around his waist, _John’s_ legs tangled with his, _John’s_ breath tickling the back of his neck and making him shiver. Despite the terror gnawing low in his gut, all Alexander could think about was how warm and safe he felt, how he never wanted to leave. It would be a problem for another time, whatever had allowed him and John to fall asleep like this. There would be hell to pay and even more to explain whenever John woke up, but for now, Alex could pretend everything was okay. He could pretend that this was on purpose. That John had wanted this, had wanted him.

This, of course, meant that John would choose that moment to wake up. Alex heard his breathing change, felt the sharp intake of breath, and was already lamenting the loss of contact which was soon to come. He could feel John’s heart speed up frantically against the small of his back. _God fucking damn it, drunk us just ruined everything, didn’t they?_ It seemed really unfair to Alex that the most contact he was ever going to achieve with John was when he was drunk. It seemed doubly unfair that he couldn’t even remember it.

Alex expected John to jump back, to move away. He expected awkwardness from the get-go. Rushed explanations and stilted conversation, flaming cheeks and averted gazes. He knew it was coming eventually, he was just hoping it wouldn’t be this soon. Instead of all those things, he heard John’s voice, gravelly from sleep, right next to his ear and _oh. Alex_ _was_ definitely _awake now._

“Morning.”

Alex shivered for a couple reasons. The primary of these was the picture John’s voice brought to mind. Alexander’s head was suddenly full of images of him and John waking up like this every morning, domestic and perfect. John would wake up curled around him, whispering that same word, but this time with reverence and love in his voice instead of drunken/hungover confusion. The second reason was that John’s voice was doing things to him that was not very convenient while Alex was in his embrace. Especially since after the unknown events of last night, Alex had no idea where they stood. That was _terrifying._ Another mantra began chanting behind Alex’s brain, a high shrieking sound something like _Icantlosehim Icantlosehimdidilosehimoh  fuc k icantlosehimicant…_

John must have felt Alex tense, because he began to loosen his grip, slowly moving back. Alex was both pleased and confused to notice that until then, John hadn’t seemed to be going anywhere. _He’s still half asleep, why would he want to move?_ Once they were a fair distance apart, John asked, “Um, Alex?” Alexander did not miss the trepidation in his voice. _So he’s totally fucking terrified too. Damn it Alexander, you couldn’t keep it in your pants just this once?_

Alex decided to open his eyes, which had been tightly shut against the morning sunlight. Well, that’s what he told himself. They had also been tightly shut against the look on John’s face that he was sure he was going to regret even seeing. Never mind that he was basically the cause of it. When Alex did open his eyes, he almost immediately regretted it. The look on John’s face, one of terror mixed with confusion, was enough to make him want to crawl into a hole for the next thousand years.

“Yeah, John?” He asked tiredly, not really prepared for this conversation.

John’s voice was barely a whisper, hoarse and afraid. Alex’s heart splintered at the sound. “Did-did we..?” He trailed off. He didn’t need to finish the sentence. It wasn’t as if Alexander didn’t know where he was going with this.

Alex was quite unable to look at John, cheeks aflame. They both looked anywhere but at each other as Alex tried to think of how to respond. He was hyper aware of how neither of them were wearing shirts, especially with how distracting John looked. One saving grace seemed be that neither of them had any hickies in sight, so at least Laf and Herc wouldn’t ask anything.

Alex opened his mouth to respond, when he was cut off by a derisive snort behind him.

They both turned to see Laf emerging from the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee in their hands. “I should think not. You were both, how they say, passed out, when I left. I do hope you stayed that way. Unless you got up to anything after I was gone…” With this, they raised a stern eyebrow.

Alex let out a sigh of relief. All they had done was fall asleep. That wasn’t so bad. That was actually perfect, Alex mused to himself, _at least he’s comfortable around me._

John asked, “Wait, so why aren’t we wearing shirts then?”

Yeah, that was an important query. Well, it was important to John. Alex was quite unaffected really, the view was lovely. Between the missing shirt and the low riding pants John was apparently wearing, Alex was getting quite the eyeful. John was _beautiful_ , and Alex was quickly coming to the realization that he was more freckle than skin. _Is it possible to count them?_

Laf chuckled, remembering something from the previous night that neither of the two boys was able to. “Alex took his shirt off when he spilled tequila all over himself, and you didn’t want him to feel left out, cherie.” Quietly they continued to themselves, “Je pense qu’il amait la vue.” Alex was indignant. While it might have been true, that didn’t mean John needed to know. Alex could have argued, but his head did really hurt quite terribly. So he left it alone. He missed the smirk cross John’s face.

Herc rounded the corner, groaning. “Of fucking course it was tequila. That’s why it feels like someone’s beating a sledgehammer against my skull. Why on Earth did you have us drinking tequila, Laf?”

John flopped back down against his pillow (which was actually a cushion stolen off of Laf’s sofa), groaning. “I’m inclined to agree. Fuck, my head hurts.”

Lafayette just chuckled, shaking their head. “It seems Alexander was right, non? You cannot, as they say, hold your alcohol, John Laurens.”

John squinted at Laf from behind his pillow, which was now being used as a shield against the sun. “If I agree, will you give me Advil?”

“Mon ami, I was going to give you Advil anyway. However, if you agree, I might be inclined to cook breakfast.”

Alex was not about to interrupt them and point out that his head was aching too. Instead he just gave John a smug grin. “I will once again be victorious.”

John laughed. “I’d throw this pillow at you if it wasn’t so good at blocking the light. Like we can’t tell you’re hungover as fuck too, this is the quietest you’ve ever been.”

Alex fell back over too, but not before poking John in the side. “While that may be true, I hardly think pride is going to beat food in your mind. You and your fucking waffles…”

Indignantly, “I resent that.”

Herc cut in, chuckling at their antics. “Doesn’t mean he isn’t right.”

John whined. “Whose side are you even on?”

“Food.”

“I suppose that’s fair. Still, you’re all horrible traitors and I’m not going to stand for it. I’m gonna shower.”

Lafayette cackled, calling down the hallway after a rapidly retreating John, “Would you like your eggs fried or scrambled?”

“Fuck you!”

Uproarious laughter, then wincing as they all remembered their hangovers.

-

Some time later, Lafayette was cooking pancakes for them all. Laf had elected not to go for eggs. Alex and Herc sat at the island in the kitchen, chatting amiably. The main topic of choice was Laf’s incredible cooking, which Alex was basically required to love. “Among other things…” Laf muttered to themselves. Alex decided to ignore that one. And then Herc decided to begin The Talk.

“So, Alex, I see you’re quite fond of our Laurens.” He tried his best to look intimidating, but between the hangover and Alex’s knowledge of his teddy bear nature, he really failed.

Alex smiled softly. “Yeah, he’s really great. I was worried I was gonna get some asshole of a roommate, I’m glad that didn’t happen.”

Lafayette looked up from their cooking and gave Herc a Look. Alex didn’t know what the Look meant, but he was not ready to find out. He hadn’t had enough coffee to deal with this.

“Is that all, cherie?” There was a suggestive hint to their voice that Alex did not appreciate at all.

Alex flushed. “I’m quite sure I don’t know what you mean.” He said primly, mind racing. _I’ve known them for like, two days. They can’t possibly tell already. Unless I’ve been that obvious. In which case Laurens can probably tell too ohfuckfuckfuck…_

He was snatched from his train of thought by Herc chuckling. “Dude, we’re hungover, not blind. You fell asleep cuddling, for fuck’s sake.”

Alex blinked owlishly at them both. “We did? I thought we just fell asleep. Because you can’t control what you do when you sleep so it’s not anyone’s fault because that would be weird especially since we’ve known each other for basically a day..”

Lafayette and Hercules shared yet another look, before Laf sighed. They rootled around in their pocket for a second, pulling out their cell phone. They tapped around for a second, while Alex was left to feel somewhat uncomfortable under Herc’s scrutiny. Eventually, Laf handed Alex their phone, and Alex’s throat dried up.

On the screen was a photo of him and John, curled around each other. It was so domestic and adorable looking Alex had to resist squealing. They were basically spooning, Alex curled tinily into Lauren’s chest. They both looked so calm and adorable that Alexander wanted to frame the photo, or stare at it forever, or live in that moment for an eternity.

Eventually, Alex found his voice and said breathily, “Two things. One, send that to me. Like, right now. Two, we were both drunk. I’ve done more audacious things while I was drunk. Why does that have to mean anything?”

Herc and Laf both fixed him with identical Do-You-Think-I’m-Fucking-Stupid look. Alex quailed. “What do you guys want me to say? It’s not like I’d try anything. He’s straight, anyway.”

Laf was about to speak up, when they suddenly squealed, “My PANCAKES, mon dieu!” Before rushing to the other side of the kitchen to attend to breakfast, which was quite possibly about to burn.

Herc’s look morphed into something more closely resembling pity, before he asked. “So, you do like him then?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Yes, Herc, he’s my friend. Quite an awesome one too. But I can see that’s not what you meant, so I’ll resort to being a kindergartener. If you really need me to admit it, I like-like him, too. Happy?”

Herc grunted, before giving Alexander an appraising look. “You make him happy. Don’t fuck it up.”

“Herc, he’s literally not even into guys so I don’t see why you’ll bother. But yes, I’m going to continue being his friend. It’d be kind of awkward if I didn’t, seeing as how we have to live together for the next year and also we’ve officially formed a squad now. No backing out.”

Laf called across the kitchen, confusion evident. “What does that mean, the backing out? It is not painful, is it?”

Alex wasn’t even surprised that he’d been listening in. “No, Laf, it means to leave a promise or not do something you said you would.”

“Ah. Merci, mon ami!”

When Alexander turned back to him, the pitying look had returned to Herc’s eyes. “Alex…” He began cautiously.

And then John emerged from the bathroom, and Alex once again lost all train of thought. The previous conversation was forgotten as Alex took in the sight that was John having recently exited the shower. Alex filed this image away in his brain under Further Proof That John Laurens Is Actually Adonis. He was pretty sure he looked ridiculous just gaping at John, but couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away. Hercules had definitely his staring, but said nothing, just watched amusedly.

John seemed to really have a dislike of shirts. Not that Alex was complaining, although his concentration might. Laurens’ hair was still wet, dripping and running down his shoulders and across his chest obscenely. Alex was overcome with the urge to run his hands across John’s washboard abs, and had to ball his hands into fists to prevent himself from doing just that.

While Laf and Herc had definitely noticed Alex’s fascination with Laurens’ shirtlesness, John was oblivious. Thankfully so. He slid into the seat next to Alex at the counter. “Lafayette, you bastard..”

Alex flinched. The world went quiet for a second, white noise crackling behind his ears and eyes. It had been a long time since anyone had said that word and not done so with malice.   
Alex didn’t think anyone noticed. He was wrong, just nobody said anything.

“…You admitted my defeat before I did! I’m tempted not to eat whatever it is you’ve made out of sheer bitterness.”

Hercules laughed. “Pancakes.” Now it was John’s turn to be treated to a knowing look.

John looked between the two, before turning to Alex. Dramatically, he cried, “You’re both horrible. You’re using my weakness against me. Alexander, defend my honor!” With this, he pulled Alex’s chair closer to his, attempting to hide himself from Herc and Laf.

Height difference struck again. The only thing accomplished by that was Alex’s heartbeat skyrocketing as John suddenly came _very_ close to him. Again.

Alex held up his hands. “Sorry Laurens, this is your fight. Technically you lost to me in the first place, so…”

John faked hurt. “Oh, I see how it is. So much for winning back my honor. Give me those damn pancakes, Laf.”

Lafayette cackled, shared another Look with Herc. Alex stopped trying to interpret whatever spy shit the two of them had going on. It was going over his head, both literally and figuratively. A plate of pancakes and bacon slid across the counter towards John, who glared at all of them in turn before moodily reaching for the syrup.

Having successfully drowned his plate in syrup, John took a bite. They all cheered, and John glared again.

They all promptly burst into giggles. Alex choked out, “It’s impossible to look threatening with a faceful of pancakes, Laurens.”

John didn’t even attempt to be polite as he spoke with his mouth full. “Fuck you guys. Laf, these are delicious. Stop doing that.”

Alex decided that John Laurens was beautiful even when he wasn’t trying. It was refreshing to know that he could actually look human sometimes. A minor flaw in otherwise irritating perfection. Faultless.

That being decided, Alex turned to his own plate of food, digging in. Lafayette really was a good cook.

Breakfast consisted of more or less a continuation of the previous night, minus the alcohol. Herc filled the role of Dadfriend quite well.

And if Alex happened to lean across at every opportunity just to touch John, well, nobody needed to know. And if he happened to get that picture from Lafayette and set it as his home screen, well, that was between him and the circuit boards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY WOW LIKE 600 HITS WHAT IS THIS I LOVE YOU ALL I NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD GET THIS POPULAR OMG
> 
> Please comment what you thought, comments and kudos are most of my inspiration and motivation! Plus I love talking to you guys. If you have any ideas or theories I'd love to hear them!!!
> 
> Until next time my friends!
> 
>  
> 
> PS who's ready to cry on July 9th because I can't handle it at all


	6. Thomas Jefferson Is An Asshole And Alex Hates Him (Laurens Doesn't Like Him Either)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a club fair.  
> Alex is like a kid in a candy shop.  
> John is very touchy.  
> Jefferson is a class-A Asshole.  
> Burr is, well, bearable.  
> Peggy is adorable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My dudes I'm so sorry that this took so long to update! I'm kind of in the middle of moving house, and writing is pretty difficult when all your Earthly possessions are in a box. To make up for it, I've written an extra-long chapter because what is consistency lmao. It's like 5k, wahoo!!!
> 
> Trigger warning for homophobia, accidental misgendering, and general assholery.

After the pancakes were finished, they all migrated towards more comfortable seating. Lafayette washed up in the kitchen while the other three made their way to the living room. (Alexander was still amazed at the size of Laf’s apartment; it had _separate rooms_! John and Alex were lucky to have the one room us an adjoining bathroom.)

Once they were all in the living room, they had to decide how to spend the rest of the day, or at least most of it. It was already nearly 1, after all. Herc and John, arguably the most hungover of the four, argued for doing nothing. Alex said no, they had to do something, anything other than being lazy.

(He also secretly opted for doing John, but that wasn’t really applicable. _Or something you’d ever say out loud if you value your friendship!!_ )

Lafayette started talking about how they’d heard about a club fair on campus later that day. “It is supposed to be very much fun, we can make friends, find people who share the interests with us.”

John groaned, flopping dramatically onto the couch. “I’m not friendlyyyyyy.”

Alex giggled, “You sound like you’re five, Laurens.” John threw a pillow at him. Alex jumped on him in response. “Besides,” he said, moving on the couch to lie at John’s side, “I found you to be perfectly friendly.”

John grinned at him. “I guess that’s true. But heyyy, stop proving me wrong, that’s like three times today, and it’s only been two hours.”

Alex’s was too busy ignoring the way his heart was hammering to focus on responding. His stomach fely weird and cold, but not altogether unpleasant. A certain kind of nervous energy thrummed through him, almost as if John was a live wire and Alex was completing the circuit by touching him. _Did I actually do something brave? Like, initiate physical contact kind of something? Damn, I’m an idiot. Also, I like this. Cane we do this more?_

Luckily for him, the conversation moved on around him, giving Alex a moment of stillness amid the chaotic way his friends talked to one another. _The eye of the storm,_ he thought to himself. He took advantage of this respite—and John’s distraction—to stare at him (again). The two were actually close enough for Alex to notice that John actually had freckles on his _lips_ , of all places. _I didn’t even know that was possible. Also, I want to taste them._ Alex decided there and then that he was never going to be able to look at any other part of John. It was simply too enthralling.

“Alex?” The lips moved. Alex was yanked from his reverie, back to the land of the living. “Got lost in there again, dude?” A finger, tapping his forehead. Him, resisting the urge to just lean imperceptibly closer until those lips met his. _But of course you’re never going to do that because you’re not a moron, right Alex? Riiiight…_

“I—um--uh—what?” He eventually managed to stammer out.

“You totally missed all of that, didn’t you?” Herc had that look on his face again, the one that meant he knew what Alex was doing. He didn’t need to look to know that Laf was sporting the same look on their face too. _Guys, chill. I would—could--never._

“Um, yeah…sorry. I just zoned out a bit, oops.”

“It is okay, amie. I know you are also very hungover, despite what you want Laurens to believe. We agreed to go to the clubs fair later. But first, you and John need new clothes.”  Laf was, indeed, sporting that same look. _Those two are on the same wavelength. Creepy._

Herc laughed, “You guys probably stink, dude. Also they’re lowkey kicking you out.”

Alex joined in their laughter. “Can we at least get our shirts back? I don’t want to have to walk back across campus like this.”

Laf handed them back their shirts, and Alex was sad to realize that he and John were going to have to separate in order to redress. _Are shirts really_ that _important? Not nearly as important as cuddling. Wait—are we cuddling? shIT._

_Definitely time to separate before I get another moronic idea._

In no time, Alex and John were separated, fully clothed, and leaving Laf’s apartment. Alex pretended he didn’t miss the sight of Laurens shirtless.

-

Some time later, the Revolutionary Set was reunited, fully clothed, showered, and marginally less hungover. Laf was practically bouncing. _Well, they’re excited. Makes sense, they’re the only one that knows anything about this fair._

“Amis, is it alright with you if I, ah, abandon you? I have heard very good things about the foreigners exchange, and French club. I do not think you will be, in to that, non? So I may go alone, yes?”

Alex said, “Of course, Laf. We aren’t going to hold you prisoner, after all. Go on!” He giggled as Laf practically bounded away, so eager to meet others that spoke French.

John was in the midst of the same conversation with Hercules, who wanted to go to…something about sewing, Alex wasn’t really paying attention. His mind was a little preoccupied with the idea of _John and I are gonna be alone again? Yes yesyesyesy esyes wait I could do something dumb nono non o no no no…._

“So, where do you want to go?” It was John’s voice, pulling him once again from his reverie. Alex knew that for this reason alone he would definitely have to keep John around. Usually when he was lost in his head, he stayed lost. But time and time again, it was John who dragged him out of the recesses of his brain and back to the land of the living.

“Um, is everywhere an acceptable answer, or..?” John laughed brightly. God, how Alex loved that sound.

“Alex, you do know you can’t join every club, right?”

“Watch me.” He gave John his best bite-me grin, before turning to peer around. He missed the scarlet that spread across John’s cheeks at that look.

Before Alex could quite comprehend what was happening, his arm was being tugged to the left, and he was stumbling along after it. It took him a minute to connect the dots, but when he did, his brain nearly melted. _John Laurens is holding my hand. In public. Of his own volition._

“Let’s start over there!” John cried above the clamor of people milling around. Before Alex could even comment, the two were nearly sprinting across the quad to a line of tables that looped across nearly half the campus. Of course, King’s college was a relatively small college, but still. It was a lot of clubs. Alex was overjoyed to see the StuCo and Debate booths near where John was dragging him to.

The two were laughing and panting as they slowed to a stop near the first few tables. They were both more out of breath than either was willing to admit. Alex was willing to admit it had been a long time since he’d exercised.

“Jeez, Laurens, I thought you were fit or something?” He prodded in between gasping breaths

“And whatever gave you that impression?” Laurens asked drily, slowly regaining air. Alex flushed beet red.

“I—um—I just, I mean, look at you!” He gestured up and down John’s general area to emphasize his point. Now Alex wasn’t the only one blushing. _Why the fuck is he this pretty while out of breath_ and _blushing? Unfair._

The two were saved from having to continue that mortifying conversation by a voice sounding over Alex’s shoulder. “Hey, I know you!”

They both jumped, turning as one to face the student behind them. Alex recognized them as the student that had been behind the reception desk when he checked in.

“Oh, hey, I recognize you! It’s…Peggy, right?” Alex was proud of his ability to remember their name.

“You know her?” John cut in. He looked significantly bewildered, which was fair. Alex did notice, however, that John hadn’t let go of him yet.

John’s hand was warm in his, fitting with Alex’s almost perfectly. _Puzzle pieces,_ Alex thought absentmindedly. He knew that it was dumb of him to focus on this, especially as the two of them had woken up cuddling. _But this is different. Neither of us is intoxicated or hungover._

“I, um, it’s they, actually.” Peggy cut in. Their voice had gone cold. “You are?”

John flushed. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I’ll definitely remember that now. I’m John. Laurens.”

Peggy smiled warmly. “Glad that’s not an issue. Nice to meet you, John. I’m Peggy Schuyler, at your service.” With this, they bowed low, giggling.

John laughed, too. “So how do you know Hamilton?” Alex was yanked from his musings about the emotional significance of hand-holding at the mention of his name.

“Oh, this one?” Peggy’s voice was playful. “It was quite the eventful introduction, bro here wouldn’t shut up for a solid two minutes about his room and introductions and whatnot. I’m not sorry to admit I kind of tuned you out after a while, gave you the scripted spiel.”

Alex laughed. “I was nervous as hell, I can’t blame you. I probably would’ve tuned me out too. I didn’t want to wind up with a horrible roommate or something like that. Which, incidentally,” he lifted their joined hands to point at John, “is how I know this one. Which seems to bring introductions full circle.”

Peggy smiled in that conspiratorial way of theirs, the one that scared Alex slightly. “It would seem so. So, what clubs are you guys gonna look at?”

Alex said, “All of them,” at the same time John said, “Whatever Alex drags me to that looks interesting.”

Alex squawked in protest. “It was you that did all the dragging!”

“So far. Don’t tell me you wont be dragging us both to the first club that looks even moderately interesting.”

“Touché.” Alex was willing to admit he would probably do a fair bit of dragging John around before the day was done.

Peggy giggled. “You two are cute. Are you, you know…” They trailed off, gesturing to their joined hands.

Both boys turned a bright scarlet, but neither noticed the other, as they were too busy avoiding the other’s gaze. John separated their hands to scratch at the back of his neck, spluttering, while Alex exclaimed, “Oh! I—uh, we aren’t—we don’t—um, I…no,” he finished lamely. “I am bisexual, though, so that’s not why. I assume that’s not gonna be an issue?” Alex very quickly deflected the conversation back to Peggy, fixing them with his best evil eye.

Peggy lit up. “Of course not! That’s awesome, I could finally have a friend to drag with me to GSA meetings! I mean,” they slowed marginally, “we can be friends, right?”

Alex laughed. “Definitely. What’s GSA?”

“It’s this club my sister established a few years ago. She’s a senior, you should meet her! Her name’s Angelica. Technically it’s just an LGBT club, but unofficially, it’s more specific to POC. Honestly, I’ve been here two years already, and I haven’t found a more accepting place or group of people on campus! The booth is right over there,” with this, they pointed about halfway across the fair, to a booth decked out in rainbows and other pride flags.

Alex could feel himself practically vibrating from excitement. “Oh my God, Peggy, that sounds amazing! Like, literally incredible. I am definitely going to check that booth out later, and you can absolutely drag me along to as many meetings as you like! Inclusiveness is so incredibly important, and I’d love to be a part of it.”

Peggy beamed. “And, there’s absolutely room for allies to come too, so John, you’re welcome to tag along, if you’d like.”

John, who seemed to have not quite recovered from Peggy’s earlier question, rejoined their conversation. His cheeks were still aflame, that blush painting his freckles like silhouettes on firelight. _Fuck me. I’m so gone already._  

Laurens said, “It sounds really interesting, Peggy. I’d love to look into it and even if I don’t join, I’d love to meet Angelica. She sounds lovely.”

Peggy grinned, flashing a smile so bright it could rival John’s. “That sounds fabulous! I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got to go wander. It’s my job to recruit as many people as I can for GSA.” With that, they hustled off, John and Alex waving behind them.

“That was eventful.” John commented drily.

“Peggy seems awesome.” Alex said, at nearly the same time.

John laughed. “We’ve got to stop talking over each other like that. And yes, sh-they really do.” Without pause or even acknowledging it, John slipped his hand once more into Alex’s, tugging him along. “C’mon, let’s go look at all the tables.”

Alex was all too happy to oblige. John looked like a little kid in a candy shop, seeing all the different activities.

As they passed from table to table, Alex proved to be the overzealous one. He signed up for Debate, Student Council, and MUN without even thinking. John had to talk him down from joining Mock Trial and a volunteer library job. “Alex, how are you going to find time for all these things?”

“I don’t sleep, remember?”

Joh smiled wickedly. “Not if I can help it.” Alex refused to put any connotations on that. Except, oops, _he did…_

John, for his part, was a fairly active student too. He signed up for two different Art clubs that Alex couldn’t have differentiated if his life depended on it, and stopped at the Athletics office to pick up a couple forms.

Alexander couldn’t help it, curiosity was in his nature. “What’re those for?”

John flushed, but didn’t tell him. “Well, let’s see, we’re at the athletics office while everyone is signing up for activities. What could it possibly be for?” He grinned slyly. Alexander busied himself pretending that that smile didn’t do _things_ to him.

Now, his brain might have been slightly frenzied from holding John’s hand for an extended period of time, but Alex didn’t miss the way John totally avoided the question. “Could it be a sport, perhaps?”

John laughed. “Bingo.”

“But whi—“ He was cut off by John once again dragging him by the hand towards the last line of tables they hadn’t visited.

As his brain was wont to do around John, everything not pertaining to their joined hands promptly vacated Alexander’s brain. _Come to think of it, why are we still holding hands? The crowds have thinned, it’s not like he could lose me anymore. I’ll have to ask him later. Not now; he might let go. Plus, right now I can pretend it’s for non-platonic reasons. BUT IT ISNT IS IT ALEX AYOU WALNUT STOP BEING WEIRD_

He figured they’d talk about it later.

They didn’t.

-

The last booth they stopped at was for GSA. It wasn’t the only LGBT club on campus, Alex had noticed, but it was the only one he was going to sign up for. He had promised Peggy, after all. Behind the table were two boys, a couple years older than Alex and John by the looks of them. One looked remarkably like Lafayette. The other was somewhat shorter than him, with shaved hair. Come to think of it, he kind of looked like Hercules, too.

As they approached the table, Alex felt John stiffen next to him. Then, he heard a low murmur of, “what’s that asshole doing here?” And put two and two together. He figured the Lafayette lookalike was probably the elusive Thomas Jefferson.

“Hello boys, welcome to GSA!” Crowed the non-Jefferson boy. Hamilton inclined his head marginally towards the boy, asking a silent question.

“Madison.” John muttered in response. Alex squeezed his hand by way of thanks.

Thomas began speaking, and Alex was immediately unnerved. The man’s voice was like subliminal nails on a chalkboard; it grated down Alex’s spine. Never mind what he was saying.

“Yes, yes, welcome to the school’s Gay-Straight Alliance club. Sign up sheets are there.” With that, he seemed about ready to flounce away, until ‘Madison’ grabbed his arm.

“What my colleague means to say is, this is the _Gender Sexuality Acceptance_ club. The name was somewhat recently changed, he’s still adjusting. My name is James, and this is Thomas. We’re some of the club representatives. Is there anything you’d like to know in particular?”

Alex relaxed slightly. He was glad James was there, Thomas on his own seemed fairly grating. James seemed to have a handle on things.

“Yeah, actually,” John piped up from next to Alex. “Why the name change?”

James smiled. It seemed he was very passionate about this, “It was in the interest of increasing the inclusiveness of the club. After all,  not everyone is just gay or straight.” Behind him, Jefferson scoffed.

Alex wasn’t quite sure why, but fire flooded every inch of his body. This Jefferson guy was pissing him off already.

“What’s so funny about that, exactly?” He inquired with ice in his voice.

“Just that it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard all day.” Jefferson required coolly, picking at his nails.

“How do you mean?” _Right so this better be good or I’m going to kick his ass. Also, whatever happened to that calming-presence thing John was doing before?_

“It’s obviously just a politics thing, like let’s get the club the most approval and therefore funding by being as politically correct as possible. They’d agree to whatever bullshit anyone made up just to get approval.”

 _Oh I’m definitely going to deck his pompous ass._ “And how, exactly, does being inclusive qualify as ‘bullshit’?” It was a struggle to keep his voice level. Alex figured Laurens’ calming presence thing wasn’t working because he too was barely containing his rage. Alex could feel him shaking just slightly, see him repeatedly tightening his fists—well, fist, as he was still holding Alex’s hand.

Jefferson gave a long-suffering sigh, as if talking to Hamilton was draining him. Lazily, he drawled, “It qualifies as bullshit because that’s what it is. You really mean to tell me that there are actually people that identify as L-G-B-T-Q-U-I-A-X-#-whatever? The media is just giving kids all these labels and nobody is bothering to question it.”

“Okay, right, so you’re an asshole. Why the fuck are you in an LGBT club anyway if you think like that? Correction, why did they even let you in? Also, yes, people do identify as those things, you’re looking at a proud bisexual man right here!” By the end of the outburst, Alex was practically spitting his words at Jefferson.

Before Jefferson could even respond, John cut in. “Actually, I’d like to know that too. Why _are_ you in this club after all the homophobic shit I’ve heard you say?” Beside him, Alex could feel how every muscle in John’s body was rigid, coiled tight as a spring. Alex was morbidly amused; _at least I’m not the only one about to deck this fucker._

Jefferson sighed. “Well, it’s not because I’m gay, that’s for sure. I am quite secure in my sexuality, thanks. It was suggested that I ‘broaden my horizons’, so here I am. And it’s not so much homophobic as opinionated. This is a free country; I am entitled to hold an opinion.”

John smirked. “So basically, it’s because you wanted to look good for when student council elections roll around. After all, it’s just _politics,_ right?” His voice was dripping venom. Alex would probably have been a little aroused, if he wasn’t so busy being furious at Jefferson. _Shit, he’s hot when he gets angry._

John turned to face Alex. “Actually, I’d rather ask you this one, but, how many of those letters were legitimate things and not just _him_ being an asshole?”

Alex replied, “Most of them.” At the same time Jefferson said, “Three, tops.” Alexander felt his blood boil, but said calmly, “Which would those be, then?”

Jefferson grinned, a cat-got-the-canary smile that was decidedly terrifying. “G, gay. L, lesbian, A, ally.”

Alex sighed. To John,  he said, “Nope, not even close. The A stands for asexual, aromantic, or agender. I’ll explain later when I’m not about to punch that asshole.” He continued, directed at Jefferson, “And for the record, I’m pretty comfortable in my sexuality too, enough to tell you that the B is a legitimate letter too.”

Jefferson scoffed, unperturbed. “Bisexuals need to pick a fucking side. Although,” he continued, shooting a pointed look towards John and Alex’s joined hands, “It seems you already have.”

Alex didn’t even have the mental capacity to be embarrassed by that. “You know what, you fucking son of a—“

“Gentlemen, please, lower your voices!” A new voice cut in out of nowhere, cutting Alexander off. Another boy rounded the corner. He was about as tall as Jefferson, with a significantly kinder voice and a shaved head to match James’. James, for his part, was doing his best to usher Jefferson out from behind the booth. _He seems like a decent enough guy. It’s too bad he associates with Jefferson._

The newcomer sighed deeply, massaging his temples. Once Jefferson and Madison had left, he fixed Alex and John with a warm smile. “Would you believe that’s the third fight he’s picked today?”

As one, they responded, “Yes.”

The boy laughed. “He can be somewhat…feisty. I’m Aaron Burr, co-manager of GSA. How can I help you?”

Alex was still seething. “You can tell me why the fuck that asshole is in your club, for starters.”

Aaron sighed, but was otherwise unperturbed. “Because it is club policy that we show acceptance to anyone who shows interest.” Quietly, he said, “We’re working on changing the policy.”

Beside Alex, John chuckled. Alex could already feel him relaxing. Alex was doing no such thing.

“Thank God. I actually wanted to sign up for this club, but only if you can promise me you’ll try to keep Jefferson away from me. I promised Peggy I’d accompany them to meetings.”

Burr smiled wryly, “I think it would be in everyone’s best interests if we arranged that. You know Peggy? They’re a good kid, and their sisters are a godsend when it comes to managing this club. As for the club itself, we pride ourselves on being an inclusive safe space for anyone who wishes to join. Anyone of any identity is welcome, including allies. Of course this also allows for closeted LGBT+ kids to join without outing themselves. There is another LGBT club on campus, Spectrum, but their POC inclusiveness is…lower.”

Alex grinned. “Couldn’t be much less inclusive than Jefferson.”

John chuckled in Alex’s ear, “You’re not letting that go, are you?” Alex shivered at the feeling, but smiled grimly. “Never,” he whispered back.

Burr sighed. “Jefferson is entitled to his opinion; however you may find it to be. He’s relatively new to the club, and is still adjusting.”

Alex grumbled. “Yeah, we heard. Just, give me the signup sheet before I change my mind.” Aaron beamed, handing the clipboard over.

Alex scanned the names on the list, happy to see Lafayette was on the list, along with no less than three Schuylers. He scribbled his name on the paper, before handing it to John.

John promptly went white, a rather impressive feat given his skin tone. “I’m—I—uh—I think I’m good, if it’s all the same to you guys. I was more here for moral support so this one didn’t accidentally murder Jefferson.”

Aaron smiled understandingly. “That’s alright. Thank you anyways. Alex, I’ll see you at the next meeting? And John, if you ever change your mind, you’re always welcome.”

The two thanked him and began walking back towards their dorm. As soon as they were out of earshot, Alex kind of exploded all over John. “Holy fucking shit, that guy was an absolute dick. Why on Earth do they let him be part of the club?”

John grimaced. “I presume you mean Jefferson, but it can’t hurt to ask if you meant him or Burr?”

Alex squinted at him, considering. “Is both an option?”

John giggled, but frowned at him. “Why Burr?”

“Did you even hear him talk? He’s so indecisive it’s ridiculous! I’m pretty sure the only opinion he gave the whole time is that he’s not homophobic!”

John cracked a smile. “Honestly? I was just so relieved to hear Jefferson shut up that I’d already decided who ever had shut him up was a great person. But I do kinda see your point.”

“I could’ve socked him in the mouth, that would’ve shut him up.”

This set John laughing. He slung an arm around Alex’s shoulders and ruffled his hair, “I’m sure you could’ve, but getting suspended before your first class even starts is probably the wrong way to go about making your mark here.”

Alex grumbled, trying not to preen at the feeling of John’s arm around him. “I hate it when you’re right.”

John grinned. “Too bad, because I do it a lot.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me, Hamilton.” And oh, that was just too much. Images flooded Alex’s brain of _him pushing Laurens against a wall and kissing him senseless, pressing his tongue down his throat until they were both a mess, dragging him back to the dorm, climbing into his lap and not leaving until neither of them could move._

They had stopped walking in favor of Alex contemplating how best to respond to Laurens’ words. They were really much closer than any two people had a right to be, Alex’s head was tilted up just slightly and John was looking down at him a little,  breath intermingling in the miniscule space between them. Alex was reminded of the freckles on Laurens’ lips, tearing his gaze away from the dark whirlpools of his eyes to stare at them instead. And, oh god, _I’m actually going to do it, I actually could, he isn’t pushing me away, is his arm still around my shoulders? More like my neck since he’s facing me but oh God._

Alex wasn’t sure what it was, but without either of them seeming to do anything, the mood shifted. Alex was quite certain neither of them had moved, but suddenly the air returned, Alex tore his gaze from John’s mouth. The moment snapped, and Laurens started walking back to the dorm again, arm still slung around Alex. Except now it felt less intimate, and more casual. The casual that had been missing all day from their touchiness returned full force. _That was most definitely a moment. And it wasn’t just my moment._

He figured they’d talk about it later.

They didn’t.

-

“M-maybe I will.” Alex replied shakily. _God damn it, what did you even mean there? Do you have any idea? At all? Because I don’t. Fuck you, Alexander Hamilton, fuck you and your lack of self-control. You nearly fucked it all up and for what? Ugh._

John just laughed again, that bright, musical laugh that banished the ugly thoughts from Alex’s head. “I’d like to see you try.” _Okay but what did that mean? Was that an invitation, or does he just have no idea of the connotations happening here? Why can’t I read minds, damn it!?_

Before Alexander could even begin to formulate a response, Laurens went on. “Okay, so now that there’s no danger of either of us decking Jefferson,--“ _fuck, that was hot, the mental image of John decking Jefferson.—_ “ do you mind explaining to me all the stuff I was asking about? Because I’m sure that he fucked it up.”

Alex grinned, glad to be back on a safe footing again. This he could talk about, at length. _And I don’ t have to worry about accidentally making out with him._

“Okay, prepare yourself for a lengthy spiel here. The acronym is LGBTQIA+, usually most people stop it there, but it goes on for as many letters as people have identities. Most people either shorten it to LGBT or refer to it as SAGA, which stands for Sexuality and Gender Acceptance. The L is for lesbian, women attracted to women. G is for gay, men attracted to men…”

He didn’t stop talking until long after they’d reached the dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this kind of killed me because they nearly kissed like two separate times yikes???  
> Any guesses as to what sport John might do?  
> John is a poor oblivious southern bby and Alex is here to help ! Yay !
> 
> Pls leave me comments and kudos because they are my validation and pretty much all of my motivation, wahoo! Also I love hearing from you guys and listening to you come up with theories or give me feedback, I really appreciate it!


	7. Alexander Is Going To Fight Henry Laurens And John Is Going To Fight The Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woweee, this is an angsty one, kiddos!
> 
> Major TWs for: Verbal Abuse, Physical Abuse, Anxiety, PTSD, Homophobia, Racism, Child Abuse
> 
> Basically the one where fluff takes a backseat to them talking about backstories and trying not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very, very tempted to just title this chapter Angst(tm)

Sometime later, Alex and John found themselves sprawled out on John’s bed (“Alex, it has tons more blankets its way better, get over here.”). John was sprawled out lengthwise on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, leaning in very closely to a book that lay on the bedspread. Alex was sitting against the wall right by his head, trying very hard to look as if the proximity didn’t bother him. Also as if the way John’s body was spread didn’t give him a thousand different ideas. He was very glad John couldn’t read minds.

Alex was elbow-deep in a book, some introductory piece for his Contract Law course. John had taken one look at the legal jargon on the page and nursed a headache for about an hour. Alex was enthralled.

John was in the middle of sketching on a piece of paper hidden between the pages of his own book. Alex was quite amused by this because, _he thought I wouldn’t notice. Yes, John, reading for pleasure usually involves a pencil and furrowed brow. I see you._ The book John was ‘reading’ was one Alex had lent him after finishing his very long-winded explanation of LGBT. John had been quite overwhelmed. After all, where was one to learn such things while growing up in a place like South Carolina? The short answer; they didn’t. The long answer; John had often gone home with bruised knuckles and a split lip for asking. (“Really, Alex, you should’ve seen the other guys.”) Just the hypothetical of such things was enough to make Alexander’s fists curl and vision redden. _How dare a place like that exist, one where people can’t even_ ask _about orientations, never mind live as one?_

Eventually, though, Alex got bored with sitting so close to John and being forced to pretend that that didn’t make every inch of him thrum with electricity. “Sooooo,” he drawled out, trying to catch John’s attention. As he did so, he threw his book off the side of the bed. It landed on the floor with a loud _thud._

John startled, snapping his head up and slamming the book closed. “What?” _Does he sound defensive or is that just me?_ Either way, a fine blush dusted John’s cheekbones. Alex would never tire of the way his freckles looked like this.

“You like art, huh?” _No fucking shit, Sherlock. You saw him sign up for two different clubs today._ But instead of ribbing him about it, as Alex expected, John’s face whitened. “I mean you signed up for a couple of clubs about it and I was just curious, like how many types of art can there be, I don’t really know much and was hoping you could…tell me?” He rambled.

John relaxed slightly, but still looked wary. “Sorry,” he mumbled, abashed. “I’m so used to people bashing me about it. I mean, I grew up with some pretty strict ideologies. Drawing is not ‘manly’.” He put air quotes around manly, as if he were trying to make a joke. The pained look betrayed him.

“John.” Alex breathed. _Whimpered is probably a more accurate word. You sound like a lovesick puppy, which to be fair, you are._ It wasn’t as if Alex’s own childhood hadn’t been rough growing up, but he had learned to handle it. The idea that anything was allowed to injure John Laurens was unfathomable. Illegal. Heartbreaking.

John plowed on as if he hadn’t heard. “I don’t know, man. I always loved to doodle, ever since I was little. My dad was not exactly…supportive. When I was about ten I decided that I was all too happy to disappoint him. He started sending me to all these programs and camps, getting me into sports, science, anything that wasn’t art. He kinda failed. I used to go to this science camp with Herc, I don’t know if he told you, but basically I just spent all the time hiding in various places and drawing the wildlife. Turtles are really intricate, believe it or not.” With this, he gestured to the corkboard behind them, where several turtles hung proudly.

Alex grinned. “Anything to piss off your dad, huh? I haven’t heard much about him from you, but as a Senator he sucks ass. Very glad you’re your own man.”

John chuckled, “I’ve always had a rebellious streak a mile wide. This was already fun, and there was the added bonus of pissing him off.” Alex pretended his heart didn’t jolt at John’s mischievous grin.

“So, your dad..”

John talked right over him as if Alexander wasn’t even speaking. _Touchy subject, then. In his own time._

“So, yeah, I took a bunch of art electives which is great because I didn’t tell him about them but he’s funding it. He offered to pay my tuition and obviously I said yes because why wouldn’t I, I get to be subversive and disappoint him with his own money. Clubs; I joined the NAHS, National Art Honors Society, and just a basic one for still-life drawing.”

Alex smiled. “I couldn’t tell you the difference between those if my life depended on it.” _He’s rambling. Nervous. About what?_

“Be glad it doesn’t, then.” John shifted slightly, shrinking the space between the two of them to miniscule proportions. John was basically lying in his lap at this point. Alex wasn’t complaining. His blood pressure probably was, though. John sighed heavily. “Alex…” John’s voice cracked. He tried again. “Did I ever tell you I fucking hate my dad? Wait, shit. That’s a terrible opener for this conversation, which I actually don’t know how to have. Remember I talked about my mom a little?”

Alex’s brow furrowed. “Um, sort of?” It was more of a question than an actual response. In truth, Alex had been a little distracted by John the last few days to really remember. _I know we were talking about our home lives that day with the bedsheets, was that yesterday? The day before? I’m not sure anymore._

John’s eyes crinkled, he smiled in a way that was so distant Alex may as well have been back in the Caribbean. “Well, she was fucking incredible. Or what I remember of her was. She was an immigrant too, from Puerto Rico. Well," he cleared his throat, "technically Puerto Rico is part of the US, it's a Commonwealth, but still. People saw what they wanted to see, which was a foreign-born woman of color living in the South, and they branded her 'immigrant', and wanted her gone. It wasn't pretty, and she put up with so much from so many people. They always used to say that they barely believed I was my dad’s son; I looked so much like her.”

“She must have been gorgeous.” _Alexander fuckiNG HAMILTON did you—did you just. No words, goodbye._

John just smiled again, but this time it didn’t really reach his eyes. “Well, I mean I didn’t use to believe her either. I mean you’ve probably seen him talk when he’s in Senator-mode on tv. They couldn’t believe that he’d slept with her in order to have me, and again when he married her. Looking back it was probably just to save face; couldn’t go disrespecting those Southern Gentleman values, now could we. But then,” John’s voice cracked again, and he coughed, clearing his throat. “But then she died. I was eight or so, not even, maybe. But I didn’t really understand it for another few years.”

Alex didn’t have words. Instead, he offered wordless comfort by running his fingers through John’s curls, spread in his lap. John leant into his touch so imperceptibly that Alexander decided he’d probably imagined it.

Then came another humorless laugh, so cold and bitter that the sharp edges shredded away at Alex’s heart. “So yeah, that Senator mode my dad had when he was on tv? It never ended after that, never. I mean, for a while I gave him leeway because we all grieve in our own way, y’know? But it just got worse and worse. He’d come home every day, shouting about this thing or another; disappear into his study, and that was that. Just this constant overbearing presence about every little thing I did. Was I being manly enough, upholding the family name right, all the way through. Cut me out of theater, art. Sent me to more camps than I can count or care to remember, reform after reform, trying to put me in the cookie-cutter perfect Southern Boy. And when I didn’t…” John trailed off, and Alex felt him shudder, maybe even felt a sob shake his shoulders.

His voice was shaky, even to his own ears. “John, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” His heart was already lying on the floor in a million pieces, and he wasn’t sure if he could take another heartbreak.

But John’s voice was determined, even if _holy shit it sounds like he’s crying,_ which was probably because of the tears streaking their way down his cheeks. “No, Alexander, I want to. I haven’t even gotten around to the important part yet.” Alexander shivered at the way his name fell over John’s lips. Not in a sexual way; but like a man clinging to something, like a desperate man, like a prayer. No one had ever said his name like that before.

“None of the reform camps or the science courses changed where my mother came from, what color my skin was. And while my father was definitely a shitty politician, if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s knowing how to—h-how to hit where it hurts. But where it doesn’t show.” Alex sucked in a sharp breath. His hand stilled in John’s hair, tightening into a fist until John hissed slightly in pain. He let go quickly, apologizing profusely.

John’s chuckle was like twigs snapping under the weight of a flame. “It turns out that I’m really good at using concealer. It also turns out that taking out your anger on bullies in response to your abusive father is an excellent alternative to therapy. It also turned out as no surprise when I left South Carolina as fast as humanly possible, terrified to stay too long and say something that would get me in even more trouble. So it’s definitely no surprise that I never came out to my father.” His voice cracked on the last syllable. As if that knowledge were the last thread holding him together, John dissolved into sobs.

Alex’s brain did a rapid one-eighty, reassessing that last thing John had said. The only words that came to mind were a croaking, “Wait, what?” Really he just wanted more time to reassess the entire last few minutes because _holy shit_ it had been a lot of information.

John pushed himself out of Alex’s lap and sat upright, facing him. Tears were streaming freely down his cheeks now, and when he spoke his voice was thick with them. “I’m…I’m gay, Alexander.” He looked so small and broken sitting there like that, knees tucked under his chin as he curled in on himself, tightening up instinctually as if waiting for blows that would never come. Alexander’s heart splintered and melted at the same time.

“Oh, John. Come here,” He said, beckoning with his arms wide, and John did, John crawled into his arms quietly, before sobs wracked through him once more. They were ugly, tearing sounds, as if whatever John was feeling was actually ripping him apart. Alexander may have been the much smaller of the two, but in that moment, he felt as if John was so slight as if to be almost nonexistent. He ran one hand up and down John’s back, murmuring words of comfort in his ear all the while, nonsense words that were more to remind him that Alex was there, _would always be there, always_.

Eventually, he pulled back enough to put one hand under John’s chin, lift his face until they were eye level. “John, it’s okay, I promise it’s okay. You’re okay, nothing bad is gonna happen, I’m right here and I swear to you everything is going to be okay, it’s always going to be okay.” With a shaky hand, he used his thumb to wipe the last of the tears off of John’s cheeks.

“But,” John’s breath came in great heaving gasps, as if the air itself were working against him, “It really isn’t. He’d disown me if he ever found out, I’d never be able to go back, I’d never get to see Martha and Mary Eleanor again, I’d lose everything.” His voice trembled more and more with each passing word, and Alex was terrified he was going to cry again. Worse, Alex felt he himself was on the verge of tears.

Alex looked at John with that one look that seemed to bore straight through his soul, “John Laurens, I promise you that everything is going to work out. I am so, so incredibly proud of you for this. You are prefect exactly as you are, and no homophobic asshole is going to change that for you, ever. Just because you had the misfortune of knowing this guy growing up doesn’t mean he counts as your family. You can make a new family, starting with me and Laf and Herc. I swear that I’ll be around for you, John. Honestly, the only thing keeping me from marching to South Carolina and kicking his ass right now is the fact that he’s your father.”

John laughed, but it was a hollow, broken sound, punctuated by a muffled sob. Muffled because it had been pushed into Alexander’s shoulder. “I’ve never told anyone that before.” He managed weakly, trying not to burst into tears again.

Alex inhaled sharply, surprised. “Not even...” he inclined his head towards the door. There was no one at the door, but John knew what he meant anyway.

“No, not even Laf or Herc, but I’m pretty sure they’ve figured it out by now. I never explicitly said it, but I mean they both got to witness me hit puberty and fail at pining, so I assume they know anyway.” Alex nodded understandingly. In truth, his head was spinning. _He trusts me so implicitly. All the more reason to not fuck it up._

Approximately two seconds later he discarded his own mental ultimatum by murmuring, “I would fight the world for you, Laurens.” Into John’s hair, before blushing profusely. He missed the slow, teary smile that spread over John’s face.

John coughed, before decided enough self pity was enough, and changed the subject so drastically Alexander nearly got whiplash. Still, neither commented any further on the tears that dried across John’s cheeks, or the way John remained basically in Alex’s lap for the next while.

 “What about you? You joined, like, eight clubs. How much stuff is there even to be interested in?” Alex laughed wetly, on the verge of tears himself. It did sound a bit strained. John didn’t notice. Or at least, he didn’t say anything. (He totally noticed, but refused to comment, figuring he had no leg to stand on on the tears front.)

Alexander launched into a diatribe, anything to distract them both from the ugly conversation receding into the distance. John allowed himself to settle into the soothing lilt of Alexander’s voice, relax against the warmth of his chest against his back, match their breathing. “StuCo, student council. You have to be a member to vote on any of the legislature, anyone on the student body can be in the House of Representatives, but you have to campaign for a Senator seat or a board seat. Those both get more power, respectively. I’ve always loved government, thought it would do me well to get involved. It’s pretty much why I’m majoring in Law, I want to fix all the corruption and ugliness in government. I joined Debate, too. Mostly Forensics events, I’m thinking of doing Parlimentary, Lincoln-Douglas, or maybe Policy. Or maybe all three?” He then launched into a brief (okay, maybe it was an hour long, sue him) description of the various events and how they were used.

John had turned in Alexander’s lap at some point and was now more or less straddling him as he talked. Thankfully, neither was as teary or emotionally unstable as before. “Jesus, Hamilton. You do realize those are about as time-intensive as it gets, right?” Alex smiled in this way that John couldn’t help but think reminded him of a shark.

“That’s the point.”

“You do realize you aren’t running out of time, right? You don’t need to act as if you are.”

“Says you.” Alex was glad John didn’t ask for an explanation on that. He wasn’t sure if he could give it.

“Anyways, the club I’m most excited for it MUN. Basically we get a bunch of different global politics events and have to debate the repercussions and advantages for each from our country’s perspective. The first debate is on immigration, which obviously is a topic after my own heart. I signed up to be an EU country, it’s especially relevant after all the repercussions and racial discussions after Brexit.” John thought about how Alex looked as if he was being lit from within, a fiery glow he was only just glimpsing but could never hold a candle to.

“Unfortunately, I think I remember seeing Jefferson’s name on the list. I’m going to have to kick his ass. On principle. Especially since I just _know_ he’s gonna be against me. We’ve already disagreed on like 75 different fronts and I had one conversation with him. Plus, the guy is obviously American born and bred, nobody else is stuck up and oblivious enough to toss around phrases like ‘politically correct’.”

John groaned. “Alexander, please. We all know he’s an asshole. Herc roomed with him last year too…” _Wait, Herc is a sophomore? How don’t I know that?_ This little fact was enough to throw Alex off, pull him out of his rant for a second to listen to John.

“…this is what he does, he finds every way possible to get under your skin. The guy’s a professional at pissing people off—“ Alex cut him off.

“But that doesn’t mean he should get away with it! He’s abso—“

John sighed to himself. “Oh, for the love of…” And then Alex was quite unsure of what was happening until a few seconds later, wherein he promptly died several times over. Somehow Alex was flat on his back in the middle of the mattress, John’s legs on either side of him. One of John’s hands pinned Alexander’s hands above his head, the other was wrapped around Alex’s mouth. John was leaning really far too closely over him, staring him down. Alex felt his pulse skyrocket. He was sure John could hear his heart pounding.

“Alexander,” Laurens said lowly in his ear, hot breath caressing his neck, and _oh._ Alex felt shivers spasm their way down his spine. It took everything Alex had in him to keep from jerking his hips up towards Laurens’, doing it again and again and listening to John saying his name just like that over and over and over. It took a lot of self-restraint not to moan behind John’s hand.

John continued. “I swear to God, if you don’t shut up about Jefferson, I’ll...” He trailed off. Alex whimpered low in his throat, he couldn’t help it. It was a tiny fledgling of a sound; Alex only knew it had happened because he was the one who made it. If Laurens heard, he gave no indication. As it was, Alex fixed John with a challenging gaze that said, ‘oh yeah, you’ll _what_?’ It may have been a trick of the light, but Alexander swore he saw John’s eyes darken, pupils dilate. Alexander decided it must have been the light, the sun _was_ setting behind them, after all. But then John was leaning closer again, so close that Alex could see millions of miniscule freckles spring into definition, so close that Alex could feel the warmth radiating off of John, just barely feel the press of John’s chest against his, _oh…_

A loud, angry noise sounded behind them, ripping through the atmosphere. They both jumped; Alex up toward John, he was just barely gratified with the press of John’s body against his for a mere instant before John jumped off the bed. When his blood stopped pounding so loudly that it was all he could hear, Alex registered John saying, “…weather alert. Sorry about that, usually I turn the ringer off, I must have forgotten. I guess there’s a big storm coming or something.”

And _shit,_ if that wasn’t the best boner killer. Alexander felt the blood leave his face. Or at least, hypothetically he did. Mentally, he was a thousand miles away, the air was hot and muggy, _he couldn’t breathe,_ screams rent the air, _he couldn’t **breathe…**_

“Hey, are you alright?” That was John’s voice, pulling him out of his head once again. The screaming faded, the wind died. Alex was back in his bed, _no wait this is John’s bed,_ safe in New York.

Alex laughed hollowly, “I…uh…is no an applicable answer?”

John’s face darkened and softened at the same time. He sat next to Alexander on the bed, put his arm around his small frame, _wait, when did I curl into a ball, god damn it._ “Of course it is. Do you want to talk about it?” His voice was so sweet, so concerned, Alex was ready to cry.

“Um, if you want to listen...I-I guess…” His voice was shaky and _fuck, I hate sounding weak I hate being like this this is gross Alexander pull yourself together…_

John smiled warmly at him. “Of course I do, just hold on a second, okay?” Quickly, John crossed the room and grabbed his turtle blanket off of Alex’s bed. Then he climbed under the covers of his own bed, pushing himself into the corner against the wall and holding one arm out for Alexander to join him. “Well, c’mon in.” Some small part of Alex’s brain registered those words from when John had first spoken to him, and it made his cheeks warm. Slowly, he crawled under the covers next to John.

“How did you know…?” Alex trailed off. The question didn’t need finishing.

Alex felt rather than saw Laurens’ smile. “Just doing what I wished someone would have done all those times for me. Now, do you want to talk about it still or would you rather sleep?” Alex noticed the clock in the corner and, _woops, it’s like 2am, we’ve been talking all afternoon, we missed dinner. How did that happen?_

“No, I’d rather talk. It’s my turn to talk about my childhood, after all.” His voice was small, trembling, but determined.

“Whenever you’re ready, I’m here for you.” It was quite possible Hamilton was melting.

“So, uh, I know that your childhood wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows either,” he felt John tense against his back, but plowed on, “but mine was pretty shitty too. I grew up in the Caribbean, mostly Nevis, St. Croix. My dad didn’t really raise me either, from the beginning it was all my mother. When I was ten, my dad bailed on us, just walked out and never walked back in. I don’t even remember what he looked like.” He paused to clear his throat, hanging on to that little piece of rationality in the back of his head that insisted _crying doesn’t do you any good, it just makes them pity you, you don’t want to be pitied do you?_ before he continued. He was also dimly aware of John running his hands through his hair, the same way he had done some hours earlier.

“Life was pretty good for those two years in the middle, just my mom and I. She taught me everything herself; we couldn’t afford actual school. But then, there was this flu or something going around, I don’t really know. All I know is we both got sick. Really sick, like on-deaths-doorstep sick. It was an awful month, all I remember is delirium and unbearable heat, and flies. And then,” and his voice chokes up, tears are sliding treacherously down his cheeks, unbidden. It’s all he can do to scrub at them fiercely and bite out, “she was gone. I was getting better, everything was coherent, and then suddenly she just coughed. This hollow rattling sound that I’ll never forget, I felt it against me, she was holding me did I mention she was holding me I don’t think I did, and I watched the light leave her eyes and I just,” and he couldn’t get past the words anymore. He had been rambling, pushing the words as fast as he could just to get them out and unstick his throat. And then tears.

_Jesus, Alex, pull yourself together. This is pathetic. You’re pathe—_

“..don’t have to keep talking if you don’t want to, I get it…” And there was Laurens’ voice, banishing the voice once again. Alex could have kissed him for that alone. John stroked his hair, turned to face him, was doing everything possible to comfort him and all Alex really wanted to do was latch on to him and never let go.

“No. No, I have to. Please, let me.” His voice was wavering but strong, and as he stared into John’s eyes, he saw understanding. This hurt, but it was the good kind of hurt that came with exorcising demons that should have left long ago.

“Okay,” John whispered, wiping a stray tear from Alex’s face.

“So my mother died, and I had no fucking clue what to do with myself from then on. Of course they didn’t want me in the foster system, there are so many foster kids. They tracked down this guy I’d never met before but was supposedly my cousin, stuck me with him. Dusted their hands, mission accomplished. And then they were back two months later to come get me once more. My cousin committed suicide, and I was the one that found him. Barely fucking 13 years old and I’d already seen so much death. From there I just sorta bounced around for a while, five or six foster homes, I learned not to get attached.”

Alexander simultaneously hoped and did not hope that the unspoken words were seeping through, the ones that said _I learned never to get attached to anyone but then I met you and here I am and it’s been maybe four days but I trust you so much, so implicitly, you already feel like more of a home than I’ve ever had._

Swallowing thickly, he continued, “When I was 17, a hurricane destroyed my town. I watched everything I’d ever known get swept away and drown. I didn’t die; I couldn’t seem to. You don’t understand, John, it was the most horrible thing I’d ever witnessed, people screaming and dying and drowning and nothing anyone could do except die, I would’ve been happy to die right then. But I couldn’t. And all I remember, really, was just the howling wind and the rushing water, water everywhere, and the way it all just _stopped,_ so suddenly. The sky was yellow and everything was rubble and gone but I was just standing there, alive, when I had no right to be. There were bodies and things I don’t even dare to think about even now just strewn everywhere. Destruction unimaginable. And every time it rains, I remember all the people I saw get taken away and killed by the hurricane and how powerless I was to do anything, how my entire life was just dripping, dripping down the drain. I’ll never forget it as long as I live.”

John exhaled a long, shaky breath. “Holy shit, _Alexander…_ ” There weren’t words. But Alex understood all the same.

“So, yeah, I don’t really like storms all that much.”

John chuckled, but it sounded as if he were fighting against it. “Oh my _God,_ Alex. No kidding. Compared to that, my life was a cakewalk. Look, if there’s anything I can do, ever, please, just _tell me._ Like, we’re not leaving the dorm at all whenever it rains. We’re gonna stay right here. I’m not leaving you.”

If Alex had the emotional capacity to feel anything right now, he might have melted at the fierceness and protectiveness that blazed in John’s eyes and voice. As it was, though, he just smiled. Burrowed deeper into John’s embrace. “Can I stay here tonight?”

John’s laugh sounded brittle and broken to the both of them. “Of course, baby, I’m not letting you go after that. And hey,” he caught Alex’s chin in his hand, forced eye contact, “The storm scares you, wake me up. I’ll fight the fucking thing for you.” His eyes were dancing, but the light looked wavering, about to collapse.

Alex chuckled weakly. His brain felt wrung out, exhausted. There was no room inside of him to stress out over John's utterance of  _baby._ That would come later. Instead he just said, “Thank you.”

Without another word, the two boys fell asleep, curled around each other. They both had cracked open chests and bleeding hearts, scarred from reopening old wounds. They held each other’s hearts in their hands, carried the other's deepest secrets with them, and it weighed heavily on their souls. But if you asked either of them, they would both say how they fell asleep lighter than they had felt in years. They would both say there was not a night where they had gone to sleep more safe, more loved than that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY POOR BABIES AHHH I'M SO SORRY,,,
> 
> But also I'm not??? Because this is a rly vital step in their relationship, its all about how they trust each other and as much as Alex can go "shit he's cute" they also have to be able to talk beyond that??? 
> 
> I see now why writers enjoy making characters suffer. This was gruesome but...fun?? Idk.
> 
>  
> 
> PLS LEAVE ME COMMENTS AND KUDOS IT IS MY VALIDATION ALSO I LOVE TALKING TO YOU GUYS PLS


	8. John Laurens May Have Fucked Up And He Blames Himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John does something drastic with drastic consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WISH I COULD HAVE UPDATED SOONER THIS HAS BEEN SITTING ON MY COMPUTER FOR THREE DAYS BUT THE WIFI HERE IS SHITTY
> 
> HOPE YOU ENJOY :)))))

The next morning they found themselves in the same position as just a few days previous—this time without the hangovers. Alex relished in the warmth of the moment, in the comfort that oozed out of every pore. He was tucked up against John’s chest, John’s arms circled protectively around him, John’s legs tangled with his own. John, John, _John._ It was so sweet and perfect, his heart ached. It was too early to contemplate the melancholy creeping in around the edges of this. He would not allow his thoughts to disturb the perfect vignette, and instead turned and buried his face back into John’s chest, slipping back out of consciousness.

John woke to similar thoughts assailing him. He looked down at the sleeping man in his arms, and couldn’t help but think of how vulnerable and open he looked. Couldn’t help but delight in the solid warmth of Alexander pressed against him, delight in the way Alex snuggled further into him as John shifted. Couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heartstrings as he remembered _this wasn’t real._ Well, it was, just not the way John wanted it to be. But those thoughts were too dark, too ugly for the saccharine feeling, the rightness of this moment. Those thoughts could come later, could come with stolen glances and an aching heart once they were both fully conscious. For now, John allowed himself to slip back into the honeyed calm of _holding Alexander in his arms,_ and glide back into sleep.

\---

Eventually, the boys forced themselves to leave the bubble of calm was their bed. _Wait, OUR bed? Alexander, my man, please calm the fuck down, thanks buddy._ There were those unfortunate things called Responsibilities to deal with. Most of them did not allow Alexander any time to cuddle with his roommate, no matter how much he wanted to. _God,_ did he want to. There were few things in the world more perfect than waking up cuddling John Laurens. Alex would be hard-pressed to think of any for the next while, not while the feeling of John surrounding him lingered.

Of course, once the two separated and Alex began preparing himself for his first day of actual classes, it all came crashing back down. Reality and the rest of the world came knocking, and what was Alexander to do but answer it? This was his _shot,_ his chance to make something of himself. _Am I really going to throw it all away, disregard it even for a second, for the sake of this pathetic crush thing I’ve got going?_

He didn’t think he would.

A small part of him hoped he could be wrong. Especially when John Laurens emerged from the bathroom, offered him a million-dollar smile and a hand, and began towing him towards the cafeteria.

\---

Alex spotted Jefferson across the cafeteria. He was trying to pay attention to John, really he was. He wanted to know about how much John was dreading his Introductory Calculus course _I mean who could blame him_ but then Jefferson walked in and Alex’s douchebag sensor went off.

Just the mere sight of that _asshole_ was enough to make his blood boil as he remembered everything he didn’t get to say when they met. _Why do assholes like him even get to exist? God’s just testing me, isn’t he? Please, God, get that guy’s face out of my life before I get expelled for breaking it._

Jefferson did not disappear in a cloud of smoke, die, or otherwise leave the cafeteria, so it seemed his prayers were being met with indifference. Turning back to John, he began ranting.

“I still can’t believe all the shit that asshole said the other day.” _Oh, right, John’s facing the other way. He’s got no clue who I’m talking about._ John did indeed look very confused, nose scrunched up adorably as he looked quizzically around.

“Once again, I’m inclined to ask. Jefferson, Burr, or someone else you’ve inexplicably managed to fight while I wasn’t there?” Judging by the sly grin which Alex had to pretend _didn’t_ make his knees go weak; John was definitely making fun of him. But he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“Jefferson.” He ground out through gritted teeth. John’s face immediately darkened, humor gone. Alex resumed his tirade, “I really fucking hate that guy, not only is he homophobic and moronic and biphobic, but he’s a hypocrite too! Lafayette is a pretty big dent in the ‘I am very secure in my sexuality’ bullshit he was spewing—“

“He’s coming over here…” John muttered quietly. _Makes sense, he’s not in my line of view anymore. So he can probably hear me then…_ Alex was still inclined to not give a shit. He said as much,

“I’m pretty inclined to not give a shit. That bigot could do with hearing another opinion instead of jus--” and quite suddenly he was cut off.

The entire world collapsed, folded in on a single point, while Alex’s brain spun out into orbit. It was impossible, the situation Alex found himself in; his brain had to be lying to him. There was no way John was leaning over the table, lips connected to Alex’s. But then John did this thing with his teeth in regards to Alex’s bottom lip, and _oh, okay, that’s pretty fucking real._ All he could think was a continuous loop of _Johnjohnjohnjohn, John’s lips, John’s teeth; John’s tongue oh my fUCK…_

And _shit,_ John was a phenomenal kisser. This wasn’t the chaste peck that Alex had imagined for a first kiss, it was…it was… hungry, animalistic, desperate. Desperate for what Alex didn’t know, and gave himself no time to ponder as John did this thing with his tongue that had Alex gasping, hands flying up into John’s hair. John took advantage of this to tongue at the seam of Alexander’s lips, asking permission. Permission Alexander was more than willing to give. He used his hands in Laurens’ hair to haul him closer, lips falling open with a groan. They could only get so close with the table between them, as Alex was reminded by the sensation of a table edge digging into his chest. To Alex’s utter frustration, the table did not disappear when he concentrated his will against it. He contemplated getting up to the other side of the table to straddle John’s lap, but decided disconnecting their lips for even a millisecond wasn’t worth it. _Also there’s the small matter of you being in semi-public._

Laurens, oh _God,_ he actually fucking whimpered when Alex tugged his hair, and shit, if Alex didn’t want to hear that sound over and over and over. Preferably behind the privacy of their closed dorm room, minus clothing. _Oh,_ how Alex ached for the man in front of him, longed to take him apart over and over, watch him fall apart and never put him back together. To figure out what exactly made him tic, made him make more noises like that one.

Dimly, some annoying niche in his mind was vaguely aware of Jefferson scoffing behind them, and James’ quiet voice saying, “I fucking knew it.” And then: retreating footsteps. He paid it no mind, far too occupied with _holy shit, I’m kissing John Laurens._

John hummed and drew away slowly, fisting his hands in Alex’s hair and leaning their foreheads together. He had a pretty flush high on his cheekbones, illuminating those spectacular freckles. Alex had no doubt that his own face was flushed, his eyes wide and dark. He was profoundly glad they were sitting behind a table now, as a certain, uh, _problem_ had presented itself.

Alex wanted nothing more than to lean back in those couple millimeters, listen to the screaming of his heart. But he figured that first; they’d better address whatever had just happened. _Not that you’re complaining, are you? Hell fucking no._ He figured that as John had initiated the kiss, he also got to initiate the That-Just-Happened conversation. So Alex allowed control of the conversation to be given to John, and contented himself with staring into John’s eyes. _They look a lot greener up close, huh._ It was true; John’s hazel eyes were speckled with more green and blue than he would have guessed. Alexander took this opportunity to examine each one in detail.

It took probably far longer than was actually acceptable, but eventually Laurens drew away. He cleared his throat and disentangled Alex’s hands from his hair, leaning back into the booth seat and staring contemplatively. Eventually, he said, “Well, I guess that worked pretty well.”

Alex wasn’t used to being at a conversational disadvantage. The fact that he couldn’t read minds meant he had no idea just _what the fuck_ was going through John’s head, and as such had no clue what the conversation was even about anymore. It was off-putting. All he could manage was, a weak, “what?” and a hope that the conversation would soon move more towards something that Alex could understand.

John gave his signature I’m-Fucking-With-You grin, “Shutting you up about Jefferson. And also getting them to go away. Damn, dude, you should’ve seen his face!”

Alex, whose heart had been sinking since John said the word _also_ , felt his stomach drop. This wasn’t the spontaneous “shit I love you” conversation as he was hoping it’d be. It was also no longer a good idea to say the, _well damn, I should talk about Jefferson more often,_ that had been sitting on the tip of his tongue. John’s use of the word _dude_ sealed the deal. That was such a bro-y word. _This is not going the way I wanted it to. Welp, that’s enough of having emotions for the day._

Weakly, he laughed. “Nice job, …dude. That’s gonna be real fun to lord over him at GSA tonight. Looks like he’s a homophobe too.”

Alex was saved from having to stay in this car crash of a conversation any longer by his phone going off. They both jumped. _Oh, thank God._ He smiled fakely at John, “Sorry about that. I set an alarm so I wouldn’t miss my first lecture. Gottagobye!” The last few words were tossed over one shoulder as Alex grabbed his bag and hurried from the cafeteria as quickly as he could without being rude. He hoped it just looked like he was eager to get to his lecture. It didn’t.

And if someone noticed a short, dark-haired boy basically running across the quad, tears streaming down his face, well, they didn’t say anything about it.

\---

John sat back in the booth, sighing to himself. He tried not to be offended by how quickly Alexander had scurried out of the cafeteria. He wasn’t very successful. And then he looked at the situation from another angle, understood Alex’s perspective, and felt his heart plummet.

 _Well fuck. That was a really bad idea. Like, incredibly fucking stupid. What the fuck was I thinking? I couldn’t have even asked him first? Or better yet, NOT ACTED LIKE A HORNY TEENAGER AND NOT KISSED HIM JUST BECAUSE I FELT LIKE IT? That was always an option. Except for the part where I_ am _a horny teenager._

Quickly, he pulled out his phone, deciding that his friends would be good for damage control. Or at least, something to keep him from wanting to rip his hair out.

**Groupchat created**

**Jlo; Guys I fucked up**

**Jlo; like really badly**

**Jlo; shit**

**Largebaguette; John it is not even noon yet it cannot be that bad**

**Horsefucker; I have faith in his abilities**

**Horsefucker; John what did you do**

**Jlo; I might have kind of…kissed Alex????**

**Jlo; and then pretended it was to piss Jefferson off**

**Jlo; I mean it worked but that WASN’T THE POINT**

**Largebaguette; sweet jesus**

**Largebaguette; John why are you like this**

**Horsefucker; you have invented a new kind of stupid**

**Jlo; really feeling the support here guys**

**Largebaguette; I am tempted to go back to sleep and leave you to your misery**

**Jlo; NOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo**

**Largebaguette; but I am a nice person**

**Largebaguette; John what did he do**

**Horsefucker; if he didn’t run away screaming I’ll be impressed**

**Jlo; he kind of just laughed???? But then his phone went off and he basically ran out**

**Horsefucker; oh,,,, shit**

**Jlo; I was about to tell him I swear**

**Horsefucker; have you considered DOING THAT**

**Largebaguette; I am with Hercules, talk to him**

**Jlo; BUT GUYS I ALREADY TERRIFIED HIM THIS IS A BAD IDEA I CANT MAKE IT WORSE**

**Horsefucker; oh here’s a fun idea TALK TO HIM**

**Largebaguette; APOLOGIZE**

**Horsefucker; get consent before you jump his bones**

**Jlo; HERC IM NOT GONNA**

**Jlo; SCREEEECH**

**Largebaguetee; Laurens you are hopeless, I’m going back to bed.**

**Horsefucker; OH SHIETT he brought out the punctuation**

**Largebaguette has left the chat**

**Jlo; Herc how do I make him not hate me**

**Horsefucker; APOLOGIZE**

**Horsefucker; JUST FIGHT JEFFERSON INSTEAD**

**Horsefucker; TELL HIM HOW YOU FEEL**

**Jlo; yes, definitely, HELL NO**

**Horsefucker; glad I could be of service.**

Sighing, John put his phone down. He then decided the best course of action was to smack his forehead against the table and just stay there. _Why the fuck am I such a moron? I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t hate me._

It took a while before John emerged from his self-pity enough to look at the clock. Technically, breakfast hours were over. Sighing, he picked up his tray of now-cold and uneaten breakfast. As he dumped his tray and made his way out of the cafeteria, he tried to ignore his pulsing headache. _I mean, I deserve it._

As he reentered the dorm room, John tried not to wince. The silence was deafening. It was never this quiet when Alexander was around, not even when he was buried in books and journals; there was always the noise of rustling paper and pens scratching, keys clacking, _something._ Alexander was bursting at the seams with energy, always moving, speaking, thinking, he never stopped. He filled the whole room, and every time, John was in awe. _It’s literally been four days of knowing him. Why am I like this?_ Suddenly without Alex’s presence to fill the room, John was at a loss for what to do. Which was, all things considered, _pathetic._ In all fairness, this was pretty much the first time he’d been alone in the dorm since he’d met Alex.

Alexander was a live wire, sparking off of everything he touched, while all John could do was stand and be mesmerized. _And I might’ve just fucked it all up. I’ll be lucky if I haven’t scared him away completely with that disaster. People can be physically affectionate, sure that’s a thing, but that doesn’t mean you just get to make out with them randomly!_

John hated himself for it, really he did, but he couldn’t admit that it was a complete disaster, or that he regretted it. He definitely regretted making Alexander uncomfortable, that was undeniable. But also, the kiss had been incredible, and he wasn’t man enough to regret that. Absentmindedly, he traced a hand over his lips as he remembered the feeling of Alex’s mouth covering his. _Shit. I’m in so deep already._

Groaning, he flopped onto his bed and laid there, his mind spinning a thousand different directions, all coming back to _AlexAlexAlexAlexAlex…_

\---

John was awoken— _shit, when did I even fall asleep?--_ some hours later by the sound of a door closing, a loud sigh, and the unmistakable noise of someone flinging themselves bodily onto a mattress. Blearily, he chuckled, “long day?”

Alexander’s reply was muffled into his pillow, but John could just _picture_ the pout on his face. “You have no idea.”

Sitting up, John was given a better view of the way Alexander had blown through the room. His bag was thrown by the door, several textbooks on the table, and a trail of loose paper everywhere else. It was almost comical; the boy was a tornado. Tentatively, testing the waters: “Do you want to talk about it?”

John actually saw the way Alexander’s entire being became animated. _This is gonna be a long one, alright. Well, it’s better than this morning, at least...._ He grinned as Alex sat up and immediately began speaking enthusiastically. John tried not to melt at how adorable he looked. _I’ve never seen someone talk with their hands the way he does..._ “So I had Governmental Studies with Washington today. We mostly just went over the syllabus; he has so many group projects which is gonna kill me because I always wind up doing most of it, and don’t even get me started on the final. Washington seems pretty great other than that, but he has this TA, and I cannot for the life of me figure out why he’s there, all he does is contradict Washington. Charles Lee.” He spit the name with venom. “And I sat next to another one of the Schuylers, Angelica. She’s…quite something. A bit intimidating, if I’m being honest, but really nice. We had lunch together, too, spent a while chatting about GSA...”

 _Wait…lunch? How long was I out? I better not have missed…_ “Uh…Alex? What time is it?” Alex looked a little affronted to be cut off mid-tirade.

“John you do know there’s a clock right there, right?” He gestured to a space on the wall that was, admittedly, not two feet away from Johns head.

“Alexander, you do know I’m still half-asleep, right?” He mimicked, grinning.

Alex sighed, but his voice was good-natured. “It’s 3:15. You aren’t missing a class, are you?”

John’s stomach dropped. “Not a class, but I’m supposed to be—somewhere at 3:30.”

“Is this that elusive ‘I-wonder-what-it-could-be’ sport from yesterday?”

John scrambled off the bed, grabbing his bag. “Yes, yes it is.”

“Do I get to ask what it is?” Alex’s voice was petulant. _Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this._

“Didn’t you just?” He grinned evilly.

Alex just groaned. “Oh, so it’s like that?”

John laughed, “But it’s more entertaining to watch you get confused. There isn’t much that the great Alexander Hamilton doesn’t know, I’d like to have something over you. I’ll be back at like, 7? Probably.”

Alex looked miffed. John’s heart clenched at the sight, how adorable he looked. He swiped his forms off the table, slung his bag over one shoulder, and departed quickly.

It was only once John was in the elevator, trying to ignore shitty pop music from five years ago, that he remembered. _I totally forgot to talk to him about earlier…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yIKES. You didn't think we were done with the angst, did you?
> 
> Yay we got a little of John's POV in there too! What do you guys think?
> 
> AS ALWAYS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE ME COMMENTS AND KUDOS AS THEY ARE MY L I F E B L O O D AND THEY MAKE ME CRY  
> (not quite but i have them all saved in my email lmao)


	9. Alexander Hamilton And John Laurens Suck At Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out John's elusive sport (yeah, remember that thing I mentioned like 3 chapters ago woopsies)  
> We meet the greatest character, Eliza Scuyler  
> Alex and John work through some emotional shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept this monster of a chapter that consists of mostly just me waffling about the one sport I know how to do.  
> Most of it is in John's POV
> 
> A word of warning, every time there's a   
> \--  
> line break like that, it's a POV change. Enjoy!

It had been very difficult for John to pick a sport. It was only because his father had insisted on one that he had even _looked._ Middle school had been spent on conventional team sports; basketball, baseball, soccer, stuff like that. John found very quickly that sports were great for him; gave him something to do with all the reckless energy. He also found very quickly that the responsibility of being on a team was too much for him. If he was gonna fuck something up, he was gonna do it on his own, dammit. So that left more solitary sports like track, cross-country, gymnastics, wrestling, et cetera.

It wasn’t to say that he’d been _bad_ at track or cross-country, per se, but it didn’t take him very long to hate it. There was something so incredibly banal about running in circles endlessly, over and over and over. He kept to track more because it was something to do. Cross country was marginally better; at least there was a change of scenery, things to focus on not tripping over. Until he quit in the middle of his sophomore year after he punched James Monroe in the face for calling him a fag. Well, he had more been _encouraged_ to leave. It was still worth it. Then, in Junior year, he found diving.

As unconventional sports go, diving is pretty up there. Most people only know it’s a sport when Olympics roll around, and the only diver they can name is “that one guy who split his head and had AIDS or something”.  John was both exasperated and delighted. He was being provided anonymity from the general populace, but also something he could funnel his energy into. To say John was interested in diving was a bit of a lie at the beginning. More specifically; he was interested in the team captain. He should’ve figured that wouldn’t work out, those things rarely did.

But then, weirdly enough, he found he actually _liked_ diving. Most other sports were about expending energy in explosive ways, but this was all about calming and stillness and zen shit like that. Like meditation, but with flips. It was a really interesting premise for the boy who went home with bloodied knuckles more days than not, to place value on stillness and control. After he figured it out, the bloodied knuckles always minimized right around October, when dive season began. It also helped that John was kind of great at diving. He went to sectionals during his first year, which apparently never happened. Senior year, he placed at sectionals and went to states. It was great, until people actually started hearing about him doing it. Turns out, speedos are a really good reason to presume someone’s gay, or maybe it was just John. The swim team guys usually got a pass. Then…well, John preferred not to remember the fallout.

So maybe John had a reason more than just flippancy to keep his sport a secret from Alexander. He knew he wasn’t going to be judged, wasn’t going to be looked down upon, but instinct still warned against it. Well, he would probably laugh, suffer some ribbing because of speedos, but nothing terrible. His Alexander wasn’t like that. _He isn’t like everyone back home._ Maybe John had a reason to be standing outside the aquatics center at 3:25 and feel like his heart was in his throat. Maybe he was still holding onto instincts that made his fists curl and eyes dart about, ready for a fight. Maybe he still remembered the itch of split knuckles healing over, the dull ache of a broken hand. Maybe he was terrified.

But then someone bumped his shoulder, exclaimed, “Oops, sorry!” and snapped everything into focus in one swift move. _There’s nobody here to laugh at you. Everyone here is doing the same sport as you, a sport you know you’re damn good at._ It still took a few seconds in which to remember that he was supposed to respond to someone when they spoke to you, or something like that, or at the very least not block the door. He stepped out of the way, face flushed. “Sorry, I was in your way,” he mumbled, abashed.

The person he’d run into, _yes that’s how it happened because I was in the way,_ laughed and said, “No need to apologize, dude, I should’ve been paying attention. I was just in bit of a rush. You look new, are you a freshman?” John decided that if this was gonna become an actual conversation, he had to at least _look_ at the person he was talking to.

So John looked up, and _oof._ For possibly the second time in his entire life, John was glad he was gay. (The first might’ve been when he met Alexander, but nobody needs to know _that._ ) The girl in front of him was gorgeous, of that there was no denying. She was about the same height as him, with black hair that fell in an unbroken sheet down her back. She had wide, doe-like eyes that held a certain innocence paired with a fire that warned of a hidden wrath. She had the kind of sweet, open face that made you want to trust her with all your secrets. _Yep, let’s not go down that road, let’s start with hi._

“I—um, yeah,” He spluttered, trying to gain some semblance of composure. “I’m guessing you aren’t? A freshman, that is?” He opened the door behind him as he talked, holding it for her like the proper Southern Gentleman his father would have been proud of. Just that thought was enough to make his stomach twist, and he slammed the door behind the two of them.

She smiled, “Nope. I’m a sophomore. Name’s Eliza Schuyler. What’s your name?”

“John Laurens. You wouldn’t happen to be related to one Peggy Schuyler, would you?”

Eliza’s face lit up like a sunbeam at the mention of her sibling. “You know Peggy? They’re my sister, yeah. I’m so glad they’re making more friends already! It’s been like, two days!” John noted the use of the word _sister. I mean, Alex was talking about how everyone has different preferences on that, it’s okay._

John grinned. “Peggy’s great. I only really met them because they know my roommate, and because of GSA,” They stopped in a lobby area with about seven thousand hallways branching off of it, by John’s rough estimate. He cut off the current line of conversation, “I, um, I’d really like to continue this conversation, but first, I kind of have no idea where I’m going,” he said abashedly.

Eliza just giggled. “Well, where you’re going depends on what you’re here to do.”

“Well, if that isn’t the most cryptic thing. And not very helpful,” He poked her side reproachfully. “I’m here for diving tryouts in,” he checked his watch, “shit, one minute.”

Her face did that sunbeam thing again. “Oh, _awesome!_ Follow me then, I’m here for diving too! I mean, I was on the team last year but I’m here for tryouts too, so basically just follow me!” She started dragging him down a hallway to their left, then right, then two more lefts, and so on until John lost track.

John was amazed, “What the fuck kind of labyrinth is this place? And how do you know where to go?”

Eliza’s laugh echoed musically off the hallways around them. “You see, I only ever needed to get to the locker rooms in this place. Anywhere else, no dice. You’re lucky we were going the same way, usually I just pick a random hallway to send people down, run the opposite way, and hope for the best.”

John laughed. “Whatever happened to ‘it depends on what you’re here to do’?”

“I enjoy confusing people.” He could _hear_ her wicked grin.

They stopped abruptly in front of two steel doors. Eliza started giving rapid-fire directions, tripping over her own words in a way that reminded John, adorably, of an overexcited puppy. “Okay, boys locker room is on the left, girls on the right. I’ve already got my suit on underneath my clothes, in future you should probably do the same. Wait, oops, I mean, _if you make the team,_ ” She said this in a conspiratorial way that implied you’re-totally-making-the-team. “But between you and me, you should probably be fine. I’ll let Henry know you’ll be late out, but since you have my vote of confidence he’s not gonna care too much. Alright, John, I don’t remember your last name or maybe you didn’t give it hey don’t judge me it’s been a long day, any questions?” She smiled brightly, like the absolute torrent of words she’d let loose were completely normal.

 _I have so many questions,_ he thought. He settled on gaping like a bewildered fish and croaking out, “Henry?”

She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Henry Knox? As in the coach?”

“You act as if I’m supposed to know that. Freshman, remember?” He gave her the signature Smug-But-Innocent grin that pissed everyone off.

Eliza swatted his arm good-naturedly. “You act as if it’s not on literally every form they gave you.”

John looked, and sure enough, there it was. HENRY KNOX was written on the application in like three different places. “Oh. Shit. You got me.”

She grinned, catlike. “Language, mister,” and disappeared into the door on the right, gone in a swirl of black hair and musical laughter. John was left holding his backpack, alone in a hallway, thinking to himself _I could use a friend like her._

-

John couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this nervous. His stomach was in knots, his heart was threatening to jump out of his throat, and he was pretty sure his knees were shaking. Pushing the locker room door open, he noticed that there were a _lot_ of people there. Well, by diving standards at least; there were like, six other people in the room besides him. John’s high school team had been four people.

He scanned the room for Eliza, but seeing no sign of her, just made his way to the edge of the pool. Usually, the smell of chlorine permeating the air of every pool calmed him, but not today. John noted the way everyone else was milling around, talking and joking, and his heart seized. _Why am I even here again? They probably all know each other from last year, I’m just interrupting the little team-family they’ve got going here._

And then out of nowhere, Eliza appeared at his elbow, another girl beside her. “You look like you’re staring down a bullet or something. Nerves?” She smiled warmly at him.

John swallowed thickly. “Nerves,” he bit out. He smiled tightly at the other girl— _Jesus, what’s with the influx of pretty girls around here?—_ and tried to quell his nausea.

The other girl piped up, “Don’t be worried. I remember last year, I was so terrified I actually threw up before tryouts. So you’ve got a leg up on me already. Plus, there’s the three-person rule, so you should be totally fine.”

“Three person rule?” John asked quizzically. _Is this some new thing, or an I-totally-missed-out-because-South-Carolina thing?_

The girl shrugged, “Max of three people per gender on the team. There were only two boys last year, and I don’t think anyone new is coming in, so you’ll be fine. Oh, I’m Maria, by the way.” _Yep, South Carolina missing out thing._

John extended a hand, “I’m John. Nice to meet you. That rule sounds like a life-saver.” Maria shook his hand.

Eliza asked, “Small team back home?”

John laughed, even if it did sound a little strained. “You could say that. Four of us, all girls but for me.”

Maria butted in. “I suppose the real question is, John, how good _are_ you? Please don’t be modest; we gotta know if you belong here. I mean, Henry’ll give you a grilling too, but still.”

“I, um…fairly good, I guess? I went to sectionals last year and the year before, and states last year too?” Somehow, out of everything about this situation, John got the sense this was the most make-or-break part of tryouts. _Stop being an idiot, you’re good and you know it. Just, don’t come across as an asshole about it._

Both girls raised their eyebrows, impressed. “And you’re nervous why?” Maria sounded incredulous. “Unless you’re afraid of heights or some shit, you’ll be fine.” John’s stomach dropped, remembering that one time he fell off the ten-meter. Well, _fell_ was the official story. Not that he’d ever tell anyone anything else. That was a story best left repressed, thank you very much.

“Well, I don’t like ten-meter, but other than that, not so much.”

Eliza just laughed. “Can’t say I blame you, ten meter is freaky as fuck. Don’t worry, we’ve only got one guy who does that, and we’re all about 90% sure he’s crazy anyway.” She gestured towards one guy at the other side of the pool, sitting alone. He was intimidating from a distance. John was not very excited to make his acquaintance.

Maria followed their gazes, “That’s Joseph Alston. Do not make the mistake of calling him Joe, and you’ll probably get along fine. Oh, and he’s dating Theo, she’s around here somewhere, you can meet her later, she’s such a sweetheart!”

John smiled happily, comforted. _They’re so welcoming about this whole thing. So much for disturbing the family, I feel like I’m part of it already._ Eliza squeezed his arm, “You got this, Laurens. See, I remembered it now!” They both laughed, and John pretended not to notice the look Maria shot Eliza at that. It was almost…forlorn? He was pretty sure it was the same one on his face a lot while he was around Alex. He didn’t mention it. Yet.

Just then, a guy who was obviously the coach-- _Henry,_ John reminded himself—walked in. The entire team quieted as one. He was impressively tall, and almost frighteningly well-built. John got the sense he didn’t take shit from anyone. This sense was solidified by the man’s booming voice.

 **“** Tryouts are about to begin. We have four people trying for each team, so _everyone_ is on the boards today. No being saved by the 3-person this time.” A couple people groaned, and Henry cracked a smile. “Reynolds, Alston, don’t be like that.” He consulted his clipboard, and said, “Right, we have two new guys and one new girl. Alston, Reynolds,” he barked, “get Laurens and Seabury warming up. Livingston, go with Lewis and Prevost. Schuyler, come with me.” Everyone skittered to listen, but not before Eliza gave John one last hug, whispering “I’m rooting for you,” into his ear.

“Alright, you have five minutes to get on the boards. We’ll start with a 103C, Schuyler, show them how it’s done…”

\--

John had never been more tired in his life. The coach had really put them through their paces. He was incredibly picky, having them go over something ten times or more before he deemed it perfect, even after it became evident who was and wasn’t going to cut it. Seabury, the little reedy guy that Reynolds brought with him, had quit after about twenty minutes. John had never felt luckier. He was pretty sure the Livingston girl wasn’t going to last long, either.

He met up with Eliza in the lobby of the building, after spending about twenty minutes getting lost in the hallway. She nudged his shoulder, “You did good, freckles.” He tried not to flush at the praise, especially from Eliza, who seemed to be the team star.

He snorted, “Freckles, really?” She nodded gravely. “Fine. Not so bad yourself, _Lizzie._ Pretty sure Henry has half a mind to make you captain.”

Eliza sniffed. “No way. Theo’s better, and plus she’s a junior already. And, never call me Lizzie again, or I’ll personally eviscerate you.”

John grinned, “Gotcha. But I wouldn’t be so sure about that, he had you demonstrating nearly everything.”

The wandered across the quad in this way, chatting amiably the whole time. John found out that Maria had been girls captain last year, she was dating James Reynolds but nobody thought it was going to last, or rather it was more of an on-again-off-again thing. Eliza didn’t like him but he was good at tower and balanced out the team so they kept him around, et cetera, before John had to ask.

 _Ah, fuck it, may as well._ “Eliza, you’re into Maria, aren’t you?” Abruptly, she cut off midsentence about Maria’s double inward, and stopped dead in her tracks. John nearly tripped over his own feet. Eliza’s eyes widened and her face drained of color.

“How did you know?” she whispered. She sounded terrified.

He shrugged one shoulder, ignoring the blossoming muscle ache. “Call it instinct.” _Or gaydar. And you’re not very suble. Also you’re in GSA, but I’m not supposed to know that._

She straightened, face became marble, eyes flinty and reproachful, “You can’t tell anyone, nobody’s even figured it out yet, and I would very much like to keep it that way, got it?” John was quite afraid of the intensity of her voice, even if he would be loath to admit it.

He nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of it. So you’re…” He trailed off, not wanting to guess wrong.

“Queer as a three dollar bill? Yup,” she said, popping the p. John swallowed thickly, _I refuse to be afraid anymore. My father isn’t here, he isn’t here, he can’t do anything. I’m perfectly fine. It’s gonna be okay._

He took a deep breath. “I, um. Me too.” Fought back the tears threatening to spill past his lashes. Failed pretty miserably.

If Eliza saw the tears start streaming down his cheeks, she didn’t say anything, merely pulled him into a hug. Her arms encircled him, protective, motherly. He really did cry then, not as badly as that night with Alexander, but still. “I’m sorry, I just met you today and I’m crying on your shoulder, god what’s wrong with me?” His voice was cracked and raw, and he tried not to be humiliated by it. She just hugged him tighter.

“You haven’t told many people yet, have you?”

“No…”

“Well then, I’m honored. And very proud of you, and I can promise it gets easier. Also, mutual coming out probably makes us friends. Can I get your number so as to slowly drain you of all your secrets?” Her voice took on a teasing edge at the last bit, but remained soothing and gentle.

He gave her a watery grin, “Of course you can, but only if I get to do the same.” They traded phones, and John tried not to let her see the screen as he saved her contact as **Lizard.** He probably failed, but she graciously said nothing. Taking her phone back, Eliza glanced at the time and swore. John tried not to look shocked. She gave him a Look, but he sassed, “Language, missy.”

She cracked up, “I suppose I deserved that. I have like half an hour to get to GSA since I have to help my sisters set up. Do you want to come with?” He blanched, and she smiled understandingly. “No worries, door is always open. I’ve got to go, but text me sometime, okay?” And just like that, she disappeared again. John was left standing in the middle of the courtyard, his heart a lot lighter than it had been this morning.

Until he remembered the conversation he had yet to have with Alex, and his heart plummeted down to his boots.

\--

Alexander paced up and down the small space between the two beds in their dorm room, trying not to let his mind get the best of him. As per usual, he failed. John wasn’t around to pull him out of it this time. He tried, for the thousandth time, not to think of the sensation of John’s lips against his this morning, tried not to think of the way he’d just _run out_ without thinking, without even letting John finish a sentence. Tried not to think of the way he could have stayed in that moment forever. Tried not to think of how _close_ he had been to just admitting everything, spilling his guts across that breakfast table. Tried not to look too anxious when he heard the door creak open.

Alexander flung himself onto his bed, burying himself beneath a mountain of papers and pamphlets and worksheets. Let himself get lost in the tumble of words, how easily they flowered across the blank page. He barely even let himself look up as John returned. He didn’t notice the fact that John’s hair was wet, didn’t register it in order to deduce a sport. Didn’t let himself get caught in the game again, not when his heart was on the line.

John mumbled something about a shower, Alexander mumbled something like an affirmative, and that was that. 

\--

“Hey Alexander?” John called across the room sometime later. Alex didn’t know what time it was anymore. John’s voice was timid and wavering, and Alex knew what that meant. Knew that it wasn’t a good thing. John almost never said his full name, not unless some major emotional shit was about to go down. He wasn’t sure if he could do this today. Or any day, to be honest, but still.

“Yeah?” he answered reluctantly. He couldn’t handle a gentle letdown conversation, couldn’t handle the way John would look at him with that fucking _pity_. Because Alex knew one look from John would have him spilling his guts, unable to bite down on the truth. Pity was the best possible outcome, really, the worst was revulsion, anger. He couldn’t afford to ruin this, it was better to keep his mouth shut _just this once._

“Ca-can we talk?” John’s voice quivered, and Alex’s heart broke. Not for the first time, and if this conversation continued this way, not the last.

“Of course,” Alex didn’t know why they were both suddenly tripping on eggshells around each other, why each syllable felt like a misstep. They’d been fine earlier, before John left for his _whatever-the-hell-it-is_ sport. That was still irritating. But not like this; where every second grated like something was inherently _wrong._

\--

“A-about this morning…” John choked, trailed off. Tried again, “This morning, at breakfast,” took a deep breath. Tried not to sob, choked off the sound ripping at his insides.

John swallowed. He hadn't expected it to be this difficult, hadn't anticipated the lump rising in his throat or the way tears burned sharp at the corners of his eyes. Didn't know how to broach the subject, only knew this feeling lancing through him. _Fear_. Fear over losing Alex, of losing not only what he hoped could maybe be a relationship someday if he wasn't such a fucking moron so often. But more so, afraid of losing the boy with a spark in every inch of him, losing the effortless friendship and easy chatter, the innate sense of peace the two gave each other. John had told Alexander things that he had barely even dared to think for himself, and Alex had accepted him, responded in kind. He was so, so, so afraid of losing the trust and ease and friendship. He couldn't do it. He couldn't.

\--

Alexander watched as John struggled for words, watched his eyes go glassy and wet, and crumpled. He already felt like he’d been through the emotional wringer, limp and left to dry, but now he felt as if he might pitch forward and fall into John’s arms at any moment. Might burst out the waterworks at any moment. Might just give into everything pressing onto him and just collapse against Laurens.

“At breakfast,” He supplied, ignoring the way his own voice wobbled. God, this whole thing was a mess.

They both began at once,

Alex; “I’m sorry for running out on you-”

John; “I’m sorry I just sprung that at you-“

“Wait, that’s what you’re upset about?”

“Wait, why are _you_ sorry?’

Abruptly, they both started to laugh. Not exactly the most well-timed of things, but hey, it cleared the air.

Alexander swallowed, and tried again. “Yeah, I’m sorry for running out on you like that, I had to get to class, but I did basically cut you off midsentence.” _You don’t really have anything to be sorry for, you’re delaying the inevitable, aren’t you?_ But it ran deeper than that; Alex was loath to the idea of hurting John in any way.

\--

John’s head was spinning. Everything that’d happened today, and _Alexander_ was apologizing? _Shit, if there’s no better solidification that I don’t deserve him._ He exhaled slowly, tried to figure out how to have this conversation without falling to his knees and letting everything out. “I wanted to apologize, too. I was just really centered on pissing off Jefferson _(Lie)_ that I didn’t really think it through _(Lie)_ and I forgot to ask you first. I didn’t think how that was a major invasion of your personal space, or even how you’d feel about it, and it was stupid of me.”

\--

Alexander was reeling. _So he didn’t figure out that you like him, whoopdie-doo. He still thinks he fucked up, and he’s actually apologizing for kissing you. Oh,,, shit._ If that didn’t solidify everything about John Laurens in the worst possible way. He was so kind, and considerate, and caring, and _he didn’t know._

_I can still fix this. He doesn’t need to know…but he could._

“I thought you were mad at me because…” _You can’t say it like that. Wait for the right moment, wait for it. “_ …Because I ran out on you. I mean it really was clever, scaring Jefferson off like that, I have to give you props. Though, yeah, a little warning might be nice next time.”

\--

_Next time???? He can’t mean…_

_\--_

Alex was going to do it. He was going to say it.

\--

John was going to say it.

\--

As one, their hearts leaped to the tops of their throats, not two feet from each other. As one, they swallowed deeply, willed the words to come spilling past their lips. As one, they envisioned all the ways this could go, from incredibly right to incredibly _wrong._ As one, they backed down.

\--

John would blame it on the way Alex’s eyes looked so open and vulnerable. He couldn’t do that to him, heap emotional burdens on him just to lighten his own chest. And besides, it was _so_ unlikely that Alexander could ever echo even a wisp of his feelings. Unfathomable that the trust and adoration he felt for the man before him could be resonated within the masterpiece before him. He couldn’t risk everything they’d built together, every moment of trust and caring, on a stupid whim.

\--

Alexander would blame it on the way John made him feel like nothing ever before. He couldn’t do that to himself, ruin something so precious and rare just to open out a silly crush. And anyway, it was impossible that the God Among Men that was John Laurens could ever reciprocate. There was nothing to be compared to the well of emotion that ran beneath his skin, and heaping it upon John would only sever the bond they’d fostered. For once, Alexander’s endless supply of words ran dry.

\--

Of course, neither could know that they were staring down a decision, hovering on the precipice of something major, something incredible. Of course, they expected too little of themselves to ever imagine another possibility. SO they both tamped down the lights in their eyes and the rushing in their ears in favor of mumbled apologies and a patchwork friendship.

It was John who broke the silence. “So…apology accepted?” He would have been a fool to think he could ever disguise the hope in his voice, the tremor upon which so much was balanced.

It was Alexander who ended the agonized waiting. “Of course. Honestly, there wasn’t much to apologize for.”

John laughed, and if it sounded a little broken, well, Alexander didn’t call him out on it.

It was Alexander who spanned the gap between them. He held his arms out to John, and with a timid, “Friends again?” John was in his arms. Their hearts soared as one.

“Friends _always._ You said you’d always be around, right?” Alexander nodded furiously into John’s neck. He would have promised anything in that moment, given anything to prolong the moment where John was really and truly _his._

Both boys pondered to themselves if the other could hear their hearts breaking. Wondered if the other could hear the thoughts pounding against the insides of their skulls, begging to be let free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you don't hate me too much? Woops.
> 
> Did you enjoy me spending four pages waffling about diving? I was on varsity last year and it's literally the only sport I understand lmAO
> 
> Can we just appreciate John's character development tho?? He's refusing to let his father get the best of him and I love it
> 
> AS ALWAYS PLEASE LEAVE ME FEEDBACK AND IDEAS AND KUDOS BECAUSE THEY'RE MY LIFEBLOOD AND GIVE ME SO MUCH MOTIVATION THANK
> 
> ACTUALLY TELL ME HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT MY IDEA; WHAT IF WHEN I FINISH THIS I MAKE ANOTHER VERSION EXPLAINING EVERYTHING FROM JOHN'S POV I'VE BEEN TOYING WITH THE IDEA


	10. Alexander's Hand Hurts And He Has No Regrets About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DUNDUNDUN RETURN OF THE JEFFERSON MENACE.   
> More hurt comfort because I can't let the angst go  
> Lafayette is an important character once more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I DID IT I FINALLY UPDATED THIS GODDAMN THING HOLY HELL I'M SO HAPPY  
> THE WRITERS BLOCK HAS BEEN (TEMPORARILY) VANQUISHED AND I AM PROUD OF MYSELF.
> 
> Side note; updates for this series are gonna be a little sparse for the next two weeks or so, we're prepping for The Big Move. Whoopdie fuckin do.

Alexander didn’t know how long they stayed there. Didn’t know how long he let himself get lost in John’s embrace. He figured it was probably longer that was necessary, but he didn’t care. He didn’t know when he started crying, when the tears slipped unbidden down his cheeks to stain John’s shirt, and couldn’t bring himself to care. For this one moment, safe from view of the rest of the world, he allowed himself to mourn; to regret what he had been too fearful to go for, and knew would probably never let himself have. So he clung ever tighter to John, the man who was right there next to him, always next to him, but could have been on Jupiter for all the difference it made to Alex. He clung to John and he sobbed, refused to let go, refused to let the moment end. Let himself revel in the feeling of John around him, gentle and protective.

(Some small corner of his stupid brain might’ve also gotten a little distracted at the sensation of John pressed against him. For one, could you really blame him? For two, that was a thought for another time).

When they finally did break apart, the atmosphere felt so much different than it had before. What had been a hostile, tense silence was replaced with a soft comfort. The sun had begun to set, bathing the room in a warm, gentle light. Alex tried not to let his heart clench at the sight of John’s curls haloed around his head, backlit by the orange light in the most exquisite way. Tried to ignore the subsequent way his stomach dropped as he took in the full sight of what he’d just thrown away; his chance, his one shot. It was unlikely he’d muster even a vestige of the courage again.

John’s face, too, was tacky with drying tears. Alex pretended not to notice. But his smile was gentle, his face open and warm, and it seemed to Alex that all would be well between them, at least for now. _And that’s all you can really ask for, isn’t it? A moment of peace, the moment that buys an hour, an hour that buys a day, a day that buys a week and so on for as long as possible._ It was a depressing line of thought, but one that had held true so far.

They traded hushed whispers, both seemingly unwilling to break the tranquility in the room. John; “So, are we all good now?”

“Of course.” _Like I’d have it any other way._

“Thank God. I missed you.” Alex’s heart squeezed. It had only been a few hours, and _John missed me? Sweet Jesus, I’m never doing anything to jeopardize this friendship ever again._

His voice was a barest whisper, “I missed you too. C’mere.” Alex knew he looked clingy, knew he looked weird, but could not bring himself to separate from John fully. His hand lingered on John’s arm as he turned to make tea, pulling him gently to the kitchen. John did not protest.

Alex hummed lightly as he made tea, and nearly dropped the sugar when John moved to lean against him. John’s head dropped onto his shoulder, arms coming to circle around his waist. Alex did not protest, merely leaned back into John’s chest. He busied himself with stirring and determinedly ignoring the way his face was flushed scarlet.

Eventually, the moment had to end. Tea done, he handed a mug to John, expecting the tranquil silence and this mood to break at some point. It was odd but not unwelcome when the mood persisted; John did not step away, merely gave Alex another one of those smiles that made him weak at the knees. It was tender, warm. Unfortunately, responsibilities still existed. Homework called. He pulled John onto the bed with him, leant back against him, and began reading a textbook once more. John did not protest, but seemed equally as touchy as Alexander, unwilling to let go. He was apparently content to let Alexander lean against him in silence, busying himself on his phone. Alex reveled in the sensation of John curled around him, took comfort in the placidness of the moment. So few things in his life were ever still and calm, and this was a welcome oasis.

Alexander’s brain decided to take over at that point, apparently recovering from the anguish of the day. He let himself descend into the mental fog of work and _not John_ , lost himself in the sensation of fingers turning pages and the comfortable warmth behind him, and did not return for some time.

\--

When he did fully come to his senses, the first thing he noticed was that his hand was stinging and wet. The second was that he was talking, words falling unbidden from his lips. He could not in good conscience say that he fully remembered the events he was describing, but knew they were correct nonetheless. They sprang without permission from some hidden corner of his brain; whichever one had put him on autopilot for the last few hours. “…and then I met Eliza, who’s amazing, by the way, but Angelica insists she’s out of my league and also gay, so there’s that. And then we all started introducing ourselves name and pronouns and identity, like full on lets form a circle shit, and it was great but then that _motherfucker_ decided to exist and I just…”

John was chuckling. That was realization number three, and possibly the most jarring. Mostly because Alex had come fully back to reality and noticed that they were in the bathroom, noticed his hand was not only stinging but dripping blood, noticed that John was kneeling by his feet. Ordinarily that last realization would have prompted some, ah, _distracting_ circumstances, but _fuck does my hand hurt._ Besides that, John looked _worried._ His brow was creased, his eyes dark with emotions that tumbled over one another from anger to sadness to exasperation and back again. He  turned Alex’s hand over, dabbing at split knuckles with a washcloth, murmuring “Jesus, Hamilton, it was a fucking _GSA meeting._ A GSA meeting in which you promised to be civil, nonetheless. I distinctly remember you telling Burr that you’d be courteous with Jefferson. And then you’ve come home dripping blood like you’re secretly in fight club or some shit.”

Alex laughed, but it was cut off quickly by a wince as John pressed against a particularly tender spot. He inhaled sharply, “ _Fu-uck,_ John. That hurts,” he whined, sounding very much like a petulant child. _To be fair, you kind of are. It’s not like you haven’t dealt with this shit before._

John was unsympathetic. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you hadn’t socked Jefferson in the face. I mean, kudos, but also, _please_ don’t do it again. At least not until I’m there.” He shot Alex a conspiratorial wink, one that said _I’m on your side._ He stood, dropping the now-scarlet washcloth in the sink before grabbing some bandages and ointment. Alex took advantage of the brief reprieve to cradle his hand against his chest, protecting it from anyone else touching it. He huffed.

“I was defending Lafayette’s honor. He was insulting their identity, what was I supposed to do?” And _oh, yeah, it’s coming back to me now…_

_The room was absolutely full, full of people **just like him.** People who’d been ostracized because of who they were, because of things they couldn’t and wouldn’t change. Across the crowed hall, Alex spotted Laf’s telltale ponytail and enigmatic hand waving. He smiled; he’d always be able to find Laf in a crowd. No meme-yelling necessary. And further beyond, there was Jefferson’s cloud of hair, like a shadow over what was rightfully a beautiful gathering. Alex’s face soured; mouth puckered, eyebrows drawn, fists balling. He turned, possibly to leave, possibly to run up and deck Jefferson, the world would never know. Instead, he ran smack into a girl that made the breath catch in his throat. _

_“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking.” Almost without noticing, Alex switched on the charm, despite the niggling reminder in the back of his brain. He ignored its screams about freckles and curls and instead drank in the smiling girl with unblemished skin and arrow-straight hair with eyes that saw **through**_ _him more than looked at him._

_“That much is evident. Leaving so soon?” Her voice was smooth and cordial, like velvet._

_“No, I wouldn’t dream of it. My name is Alexander.”_

_“Elizabeth Schuyler.” Her smile was sweet and slow, syrup._

_“Schuyler.” And **oops, Angelica specifically said not to—**_

_“My sister.” Angelica appeared out of nowhere, wrapping an arm around Eliza’s waist and shooting daggers at him with her eyes._

_Alex’s composure did not waver. “How frustrating it is that I continue to meet Schuyler siblings, each one more charming than the last.”_

_Angelica let out a most ungainly snort, “Oh, come off it, Alexander. She’s out of your league and you know it.”_

_Eliza’s syrupy smile did not drop, but took on a wicked edge. “And besides that, gay.”_

_Alexander Hamilton’s face had never blazed so much._

**_\--And later--_ **

_Jefferson was stood haughtily over a livid Lafayette, laughing at a joke funny only to him. “You can’t just make this shit up as you go along, Gilbert.” His laugh was high and clear, frigid. Alex felt more than saw the entire circle of people freeze, mouths agape, as they watched the scene unfold. Laf’s face was purpling with rage, and they’d just begun to scream insults in a variety of languages when Alex hastened across the circle towards his friend._

_He practically growled, pushing Lafayette out of the way before they could sock Jefferson in the face. He turned to glare at Jefferson, half-temped to grab a stool so they could be eye-to-eye. The man was irritatingly tall, even more so than Herc. It took precisely half of one arrogant, belittling grin before Alex decided **fuck it** and cracked his fist into Jefferson’s face. _

_He could feel his knuckles splitting with the force of it, and some savage part of himself was fucking_ reveling _in it. Distantly, he was aware of muted gasps and a few muffled cheers from the circle of onlookers. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought Angelica laughed_. _Jefferson turned bone-white, cupped his eye (which was already swelling), before turning and slapping Alexander hard across the face, open-palm. **Shit, that hurt.**_

_Aaron Burr had to hastily pretend not to cheer Alex on as the next few blows landed.  Instead, he attempted to intervene, but when that faile, settled for ushering Alex out before any more blows could be exchanged. Behind him, Lafayette pounced on Jefferson like a goddamn tiger, raking their nails down his face and snarling like an alley cat. At this point, the whole room had given up on subtlety and was instead cheering like a stadium crowd. It probably didn’t help that Jefferson was still spouting slurs…_

“Jooohhhnnn…” Alexander was whining again.

“Yes, Alex?” John asked good-naturedly, turning back to face him with an armful of bandages. His eyes remained full of worry, brow furrowed, but his voice was gentle.

“My cheek hurts.” _Goddamn, Alexander. You’re really going for the pity party on this one, aren’t you? Man the fuck up._

But John wasn’t angry, wasn’t exasperated like the niggling voice in Alex’s head. “I should say so, it looks like he got you pretty hard there, and it’s already swelling a bit. It’s quite red; do you want me to get you some ice?” He brought one hand to cup Alex’s cheek, turning his head to examine it better. Alexander certainly felt better, if quite distracted. He was suddenly acutely aware of how close his face was to John’s face, how if he turned his head _just a little_ he could… _no, you had your chance to do that already. Knock yourself down a peg, ‘kay?_ The intrusive voice didn’t stop him from wanting to smooth the crease in John’s brow, kiss every one of his freckles and murmur _thank you_.

In a valiant display of control, Alex did not begin kissing John wildly, but instead rallied his thoughts. “No, I’m...it’s okay, really. I was being kind of—“

But John cut him off. “Nope. You’re in pain. It’s totally fair of you to voice that, don’t try to negate it. Do you want an ice pack?” His voice had a steely edge to it, but in an incredibly protective way that made Alex want to melt. And _shit,_ if he didn’t want to kiss John all the more.

“I think I’m okay, really. But I mean we should probably deal with this-” he gestured with his split knuckles to undercut his point, accidentally dripping blood on his shirt in the process-“oops.” John just sighed.

“I swear, Hamilton, you act as if you’ve never busted your knuckles before. Don’t give me that look, I know you have, you probably would’ve the other day if Burr hadn’t stepped in.” Alex pouted, and John just chuckled. “To be fair, I might’ve too, but still.” _Yeah, okay, he has a point._ John gently took Alex’s hand from where it was still cradled against his chest, murmuring sympathetic noises when Alex whimpered. “I’m sorry, I know it hurts, it sucks, it’ll be over soon, I promise, baby, it’s gonna be okay, just let me look at it.”

Alex’s brain was a little too addled by pain to really recognize John’s utterance of _baby._ John knew it, and thanked his lucky stars for that fact.

Alexander’s heart twinged at the feeling of how gentle and caring John was being. Most of the time, people just laughed, told him to suck it up. Not John, though, John was soft and attentive and murmured comfort when Alex complained and didn’t care that Alex was getting blood on his shirt.

_Goddamn, I am so fucking into you._

**\--**

By the time Alex’s hand was all bandaged, John had stopped fussing, and Alex had stopped whining, it was well past midnight. It took a lot longer than it should have, given that John was used to _being_ bandaged, not applying them, and Alex kept squalling about it. Alexander was swaying on his feet when he finally stood, and it took John’s steadying hand on his shoulder to keep him from collapsing back down. _Can’t I just go to sleeeppppp?_

Sleep did, indeed, sound like a very good idea. He voiced this to John, who furrowed his brow. Instead of just saying _yes_ like Alexander would’ve liked, he said, “When was the last time you ate?” His voice was stern, but not disapproving. _Eat? What does food have to do with it?_

He acquiesced, but had to think for a second. “Um, this morning. Breakfast. I had some waffles, I think.” John just sighed.

_Oh. Right. Breakfast. That was only today? Wow, it feels like it’s been a thousand years. I guess I didn’t do much eating._

“C’mon, let’s get some food into you, and then you can sleep. I promise.” Alex was too exhausted to protest. John led him by the arm into the kitchen, leaving the wreck of the bathroom as a problem for future them. Not that Alex was protesting. Patiently, slowly, he forced Alex to eat half an apple and some water. All the while, they never stopped touching, never disconnected the circuit that sent sparks arcing their way down Alex’s spine. John’s arm rested around his neck as he reached into the fridge, he was sprawled against John’s side as Alex ate, too tired to hold himself upright. (Read; pretended to have no strength left so he could feel John pressed against him once more). After he’d eaten, Alex would begrudgingly admit that he felt better, if still dead on his feet. Not the best, but to be fair, John was exhausted too. They’d done all they could.

They both turned their backs on the other as they finally pulled pajamas on. It wasn’t modesty; it seemed they’d both suddenly remembered the events of just a few hours before. _Is it possible to break your heart multiple times and survive? It seems so._

Alex desperately wanted to have John join him in his own bed, just as they’d done several times before. Wanted the comfort and warmth that John had been radiating just moments before. But he didn’t have a reason to, and the pretense of “yeah I’m just clingy” only went so far on the bros-being-bros front.

So he watched mournfully as John slipped into his bed, slid into his own, and tried to drown out his thoughts. His thoughts which were on a consistent loop of _I fucked up I always fuck up I fucked up John John John I fucked up my hand my hand hurts I fucked up John John John John._

Alex was unsuccessful in ignoring his own head, and instead resigned himself to the slow pulse of his thoughts in time with his throbbing hand. It was a long time before he slipped into an uneasy sleep.

\--

They were awakened by Lafayette rattling their way into the dorm the next morning. They knocked once, called out a cheery “I’m coming in!” before banging the door open. Alex jolted up abruptly at the loud _slam_ , trying to locate the source of the noise. Or, at least, he thought he did. In reality, he got about six inches up and jerked to a halt against John’s arms, which were laced around him. John groaned from where he was behind Alex. “What is it?”

Alex had no time to contemplate why on _earth_ John was in his bed, as he was definitely not there when they went to bed the night before. Instead, he was startled fully awake by Laf’s call of “who exactly have you murdered in this bathroom?” He just groaned in response. _I’m pretty sure we didn’t murder anyone in there; I didn’t realize my hand was bleeding so much._ John started laughing, shaking with it, shaking Alexander in the process. “Fuck, we must’ve really made a mess” he murmured against Alex’s neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Laf’s voice came again, “No matter really. Do you need help with the burying of the body?” John laughed harder. Alex decided enough was enough, and that he had to see the mess of the bathroom for himself. This time without being dead on his feet. He unlaced John’s arms from around him and stood up, ignoring John’s whines of protest. (He really did want to listen to the demands of “Get back here, Hamilton, you’re warm”). But, compelled by the idea of _murder scene_ and also a whispered memory of _friends, always friends,_ Alex pulled himself out of bed.

Alex came to stand beside Laf at the bathroom doorway, his only greeting an acknowledging tilt of his head. It was early, words were difficult. The bathroom was indeed a mess, and it was entirely plausible that there was a body hidden somewhere. A scarlet washcloth was half in, half out of the sink, dripping rosy water down the side of the sink and onto the floor. There was drying and tacky blood dripped on and around the toilet where Alex had been sitting, and more than a couple sets of crumpled bandages scattered around the floor. _Sweet Jesus._

The two stood in silence, staring contemplatively into the bathroom, before John broke the silence. “Christ, is it really that bad?” Alex made a noncommittal sort of noise. John responded as always, with elegance, “Fuck.”

Lafayette just started to laugh. “I do hope it was Jefferson’s remains you were disposing of? From the sight of it, you were prepared to murder him in my honor.” Alex blushed a little.

“I wish it was that exciting, Laf. We both just turned out to be really bad at bandaging my bleeding knuckles.” He gestured awkwardly with his bulky bandaged hand for emphasis. Lafayettle seemed impressed.

Their face lit up, but before they could begin to speak, John cut across them. “Laf, not that I don’t love your company, but, why exactly are you in our dorm at-“he squinted at the clock “-7:18 in the morning?” Alex tried not to let his heart melt as he turned to look and drank in the sight of John sprawled lazily in his bed. He failed.

Lafayette brightened. “I came to thank my knight in shining armor, for saving me from the menace that is Thomas Jefferson.” John let out a cackle.

Alex brightened. “Aw, thanks, dude. I mean, it looked like you were ready to tear him a new one when I left, too, so don’t give me all the credit.” Laf preened.

“Maybe a little. Hercules texted me at midnight about a very grumpy and bruised roommate, so I would say our combined effort was successful. I simply wish I hadn’t broken a nail on that asshole’s face.” Lafayette waved a hand with one noticeably broken nail to prove their point.

John whooped. “That’s what I’m talking about!” and the three dissolved into giggles.

Amid fits of laughter, Laf exclaimed “Maybe next time we will bring you with us, yes, Laurens?” John seemed to like the idea, if the way he fell out to Alex’s bed and onto the floor was any indication.

Once on his feet, John asked, “I do hope your way of thanks involves food?” It was impossible for Alex not to giggle at the hope in John’s voice. He sounded like a little kid asking for candy.

Laf smiled warmly, “Only if you _cochonnes_ have any ingredients to make some with.” Alex and John both whooped loudly.

Several hours passed, during which Alex and John attempted to ‘help’ Laf make pancakes, and all three got flour in their hair. Laf served up a mountainous stack of pancakes for all three of them, inviting Hercules over later to eat the remnants. It was a regular party, the four of them squashed into the too-small apartment, munching on _otherworldly_ pancakes, laughing boisterously. Alex couldn’t help thinking, _this is what I came here for. This, this right here._ Despite his throbbing hand, he couldn’t think of a more perfect situation.

_If I ever have kids, and they ask about what college is like, I’ll tell them about this. I’ll tell them stories about today._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IF THAT WASN'T AN EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER. 
> 
> as always, leave a comment or a kudos if you think I've earned it, I really realy love hearing from y'all it makes my fucking day.   
> I had a question inspired by an online friend of mine, if you guys had to judge on only my writing, how old do you think I am? Let me know !


	11. Alexander Does A Bad Thing With A Good Outcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More domesticity and fluff between the resident oblivious nerds  
> P L O T D E V E L O P M E N T
> 
>  
> 
> No tw's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK LOOK IM BACK IM FINALLY ALIVE AND WITH A NEW CHAPTER LOOK AT THIS  
> I'm sorry it took me so long, but when you move internationally those pesky things like power converters and wifi kinda get overlooked...oops.
> 
> The upside is that I've finally knuckled down adn written a plot outline to get this story wrapped up. There are two more chapters after this one, so the developments are finally kicking into gear! I'm a little sad to see it winding up honestly, it's taken my entire summer, it's my baby. It's not the end of the series, though!  
> I start school again on the 5th of September, and I think this should be finished by the following weekend (Hopefully, but who knows?)

Eventually, Laf and Herc departed, complaining of lectures on things they didn’t care about. Herc rolled his way off the couch, squishing John in the process. It was absolutely impossible to take what he said next seriously, “Fuck man, I don’t want to take no damn ‘History of Patterns’ class like fucking Elle Woods or some shit.” He looked around, confused, as the three dissolved into giggles.

It was Alexander that finally commented, putting Hercules out of his confusion. “You’re so pissed about fashion but you’re quoting Legally Blonde in the same sentence. You’re a walking contradiction, most people would be disoriented, I’m sorry.” Lafayette let out a particularly loud snort. Herc grumbled some more and made a halfhearted swing to cuff them around the ear. He missed, and the three giggled some more.

Hercules threw up his hands, declared, “You guys are _impossible!_ ” before griping his way out the door. Lafayette sent him off with a cheery “Ta _-ta_!” Which may or may not have been met with middle finger and slammed door.

Lafayette had a distressing class of their own, if less unique than Herc’s. “I’m not fluent in this language, how do they expect me to understand its books from 500 years ago?” They thickened their accent for emphasis, earning a snort from John.

“We all know damn well you can speak English, Laf, I’ve been watching you do it for _years._ ”

 Lafayette shot a cunning smile. “My, how you say, teacher, she is not needing to know that.” They cackled. “And besides, I do not have to like it.” John just groaned. He glared at the clock, then rolled his way off the couch, a false look of menace adorning his face.

“Go on, get, right the fuck now, get out, you’re gonna be late as it is, you fucker.” John ushered Laf towards the door, half-laughing the whole way, especially when Laf turned to give him the Pouty Eyes. Alex did nothing to contribute to this exchange, content to look on fondly at their antics. This didn’t escape Laf’s notice, and they shot Alex another one of those Looks as they flitted out the door. Alex was unnerved. _I get the distinct sense they’re plotting something._ It was a deeply disturbing thought, the idea of Laf plotting.

Once Laf was out the door, their cries of “But _Wordsworth,_ John, Wordsworth!” echoing off the corridors and replied by Alex’s laughter, John collapsed face down on the couch.

“I love those guys, but there is _no need_ to be up so motherfucking _early._ Ever.” His voice was malicious, but Alex knew he was joking; there was no bite to his words.

He smirked. “Someone isn’t a morning person, eh?”

John cracked one eye open to shoot him a _look._ “Whatever gave you that impression?”

“You’ve got quite a mouth on you when you’re tired.”

“You bet your fucking ass I am, motherfucker.”

\--

It wasn’t until well later, Lafayette was long gone and all the pancakes were vanquished (they had both had a further two plates from the teetering stack on the coffee table, John not moving from the couch the whole while. It was a feat of dexterity that Alex could have been impressed by had his face not been full of fucking _incredible_ pancakes) that Alexander realized, “Aw, shit, they left us to do all the cleaning up.”

John’s response was muffled from where he lay face down on the couch, his empty plate on the floor below him, “The bastard.” Alexander flinched. _You didn’t tell him about that yet, did you? Awwww._

Alex levered himself off the couch, suddenly full of nervous energy. He grabbed his plate and bustled toward the kitchen. Voice unsteady, he laughed, before saying, “Mhmmm. Yup. You wanna help out?” He _knew_ his voice was too bright, he _knew_ he sounded ridiculously cheerful, he _knew_ he was being ridiculous and overreacting. _God damn it, Alexander, calm down. It wasn’t meant like that and you know it, so chill out. He wasn’t even talking about you, okay?_

John rose slowly from the couch, squinting suspiciously at Alexander all the while. Alex pretended he was unaware of John’s existence, clattering noisily about the kitchen and picking up dishes left and right. Indeed, he became so intent on _not noticing John_ that he actually succeeded, and forgot about him in the haze of swiping things haphazardly and dumping them in the sink. Abruptly, John’s hands landed on his shoulders. Alex froze.

“Alexander, are you okay?” John’s voice was gentle but commanding, his hands tender on Alex’s shoulders. And try as he might, Alex couldn’t resist leaning into the touch, John’s palms like firebrands against him.

“Yup. Peachy, all good here. C’mon, help me clean up.” His voice was positively _chipper. Can we move on from this yet? Pleasepleaseplease--_

John had other ideas. Slowly, he spun Alex around until they were face to face. Quietly, he said, “Wrong answer. I can tell when you’re upset, you know. Wanna try again?”

Alex’s voice was paper thin, all the presence of a butterfly, “Can….can we not use that word?” His voice broke on the last syllable. John’s brow furrowed, confused. It took a second to click, and then his eyes cleared.

“I’m sorry. I won’t say it again, ever. I promise. Feel free to buy a spray bottle to use as a reminder.” He cracked a wavering smile, which belied the jovial tone. Quieter, he added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alex shivered.  Nobody ever asked him about it; they just forged ahead and had to know. _Fuck. He’s just….he just…. I can’t._ Mutely, he shook his head. In the barest whisper, “I—no.” His voice cracked again.

John smiled morosely, squeezed his shoulders, and nodded. “It’s okay, I won’t press you.” He was whispering too, now. Alex tried not to cry. A sudden warmth blossomed in his chest. _He’s so….he just…fuck._

Gently, very gently, Alexander pulled John’s arms off his shoulders. He coughed, clearing his throat. “We really do need to clean the kitchen, though. I mean--” he gestured expansively at the room. Most of the surfaces were finely dusted with flour, three or four pans were stacked on the stove, dirty plates littered the counters and coffee tables, and a haphazard pile of crockery teetered in the sink. John groaned.

“Do we _have_ to?” He sounded like a whiny child. Alex couldn’t help but smirk.

“Unless you like there being flour and sugar all over everything.” He trailed a hand along the counter, showing John the powder that accumulated on his fingers as he did. John stuck his tongue out.

“Nope. Not a problem.” John flounced dramatically to the cupboard, pulled out a mug, and set it down dramatically. Then, with great aplomb, he flipped on the kettle. He pretended to gasp. “Look, I can still make coffee! Perfectly fine! No issues here. It’s almost as if flour is, get this,” a pause for emphasis, “not a big deal!” He shot Alex a shit-eating grin. More logically, he continued, “It’s not like it’s gonna make us sick or anything.”

Alexander couldn’t help but roll his eyes. It might’ve been kind of cute, but _no no nope you can’t think like that all the time you idiot—_ John was acting childish. “You aren’t actually proposing we leave flour on the counters forever just because ‘it _won’t make us sick’_?” John nodded enthusiastically. “John--” He started, but then stopped himself. A better idea had presented itself. Childishness wasn’t always bad… _Time to fight fire with fire._ “Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?” John, unfortunately for him, missed the dangerous glint in Alexander’s eyes, the sudden mischievous tone in the voice, or the way his hand surreptitiously crept closer to the open bag of flour. (What, you think they’d actually have _containers_ for this stuff? Like organized people? Nah.). John was resolutely facing the other way, quite literally _avoiding_ the problem.

“Absolutely. Especially if it means I don’t need to clean it.” Alex heard the mirthful edge to John’s voice; he knew they were both being ridiculous.

“Well, then, I’m sure you won’t mind this!” Alex shouted. With that, he seized a fistful of flour from the bag, danced across the kitchen, reached around John’s shoulder, and dumped it all down his shirtfront. And with a victorious cackle, he was skipping back across the kitchen, back to safety.

Slowly, ever so slowly, John turned around. Alex couldn’t help but giggle at his appearance. His mouth was a perfect **o** of surprise, and he still hadn’t put down the mug. His voice was dangerously calm. “Alexander?” He asked.

“Mhm?”

“The fuck?” John’s voice was incredulous. Alex just giggled again, and shrugged.

Alex had, to his later regret, failed to notice that John was next to the sink. He also failed to notice John’s hand slinking towards the spray nozzle, too entertained was he by the frozen shock on John’s freckled face. Faster than a striking snake, John snatched the nozzle, flipped on the water, and shouted, “If it’s a war you want, it’s a war you’ll get!” And quite suddenly, Alexander was doused in ice-cold water. He shrieked, grabbing the flour bag and hiding behind a chair for safety.

The next few minutes were a haze of spraying water, socked feet sliding on wet tile, flour scattering in the air, and squeals and shouts from both boys. Alex would dump half the bag over John’s neck, revel in the startled yell, only to face retaliation of frigid water blasting down his torso and yelp himself. A victorious laugh accompanied. John made a failed attempt to wrest the flour from Alexander’s grasp, only to rip the bag in half and send its contents flying through the air. They were both liberally spattered with damp flour, and laughing uncontrollably to boot. Alex evened the score by wrapping his hands over John’s on the sprayer and attempting to direct the water back towards John. Nothing much happened except for water arcing unrestrained and messy over both of their heads, shooting across the room, and once even spraying John in the face.

When all was said and all was done, they were both exhausted, and the kitchen was definitely _not_ clean. John vaguely resembled a ghost, doused from head to toe in baking ingredients and the color of parchment. Alexander was positively drenched, water dripping out of his hair and plastering his clothes to his body. They both had patches of goopy and drying flour on their shirts, gradually stiffening to a paste.

It was John who caved first. The sprayer lay abandoned on the counter, as John leaned exhaustedly against the counter. “Truce?” He asked wearily, in a voice hoarse from shouting.

Alex took one look around the disaster of a kitchen, inventoried the shredded flour bag and puddled water on the linoleum, and gave in. “Truce.”

It took approximately two seconds for the both of them to start _crying_ with laughter.

After a while, they both stood to survey the disaster of a kitchen. John tried in vain to wipe the flour from his face, his voice muffled from underneath a kitchen towel. “Why the fuck couldn’t we have a war with shit that _doesn’t_ dry into fucking plaster?”

Alexander stood from where he was attempting to mop up a larger puddle with some paper towels. Given that his clothes kept dripping and adding _more_ water into the puddle, he wasn’t doing a very good job. “Because it was the closest thing, and also we’re idiots. Can’t we just wrestle or something like that next time?” His breath hitched; _on second thought, wrestling is probably a bad idea._ “…Aaaaanyway,” he continued, trying to skip over _that_ mental rabbit hole, thank you very much, “we should probably try to get cleaned up. This stuff’ll dry in about an hour and ruin any chance of salvaging our clothes or these countertops.”

John hummed in assent and removed the towel from his face. Alex repressed a snort. Most of John’s pretty face was clear of flour; freckles peeked out from a light dusting of white over his cheekbones, his forehead was practically red from scrubbing clean, but his nose and chin were still flaking and pale. He must have spotted the look on Alex’s face, and he asked, “What?”

Alex snorted again. “I’m sorry, it’s just,” he gestured helplessly, still giggling.

“What?” John sounded vaguely panicked now.

Alex decided words were too much for him, beyond the half-hearted “You’ve got a…” Instead, he stepped forwards and traced his hand around John’s mouth, gently scrubbing the flour off and stepping back. Or at least, in his mind, that was what happened. What actually happened was it took Alex about half a millisecond to realize how close the two were now standing, appreciate the heat radiating off John, and absorb the fact that _shit his lips are soft and I never want to move ever. _So Alexander stood frozen, one hand cupping John’s cheek, thumb frozen over his lips. John for his part did not seem to want to move either. If Alex hadn’t been so far into dreamland at that point, he could have sworn John leaned into the touch just a little. What _definitely_ did happen, however, was John actually _took a step closer_ and murmured, “What is it, Alexander?”

Alex’s whole body ignited. His blood was on fire, blistering through his skin and banishing the chill of wet clothes. Heat flooded his cheeks, and he was certain his face was scarlet. He actually had to _look away from John_ to prevent himself from spontaneously combusting. The way John said his name, low and husky in that golden voice of his, it just _did things_ to Alex. A small corner of Alex’s brain figured he probably looked ridiculous, frozen in shock and staring into space, cheeks ablaze. He couldn’t bring himself to care; he was tired, so tired, of dancing away from what he really wanted to do, of hiding behind _just friends_ and hoping John couldn’t tell. It was exhausting, and too much pressure to not slip up. For once, just once, he was going to give in to his instincts and do what he wanted. And what he really wanted to do right now: wrench John’s body to his, press against him so tightly they could never be separated. He wanted to learn every angle and plane of his gorgeous physique. He was going to do it, too. All it would take was a gentle tug of the hand on his cheek, a slight rise on tiptoes… _he was doing it, and was John leaning in too?_

John coughed gently, and Alexander’s brain came screaming to a halt, back inside his body once more. _Alex what the fuck are you doing stop this shit right now oh my god calm the fuck down._ His eyes flew open and _when did I even close them?_ Hastily, he jumped back as if he had been branded. _What the hell did I just nearly do?_ He cleared his throat, shook his head slightly, and regained his voice. “Y’know, we should really get these clothes cleaned before they’re ruined.”

There was a pregnant pause. John nodded his head slowly, “Yeah, okay.” He took a step back to match Alex’s own. Most of Alexander longed to bridge that gap, felt the absence immediately. The rational part of him, the one that used to scream _you gotta fend for yourself_ and now yelled _don’t fuck this up,_ held him in check.

“If I finish clearing the kitchen, will you take the clothes down to laundry?” His voice was hesitant, timid in the yawning space.

It seemed to take John a moment to gather his brain, return from whatever space he was currently inhabiting. “Um, sure. I’ll just go—“ He was cut off by an odd choking noise.

Alex was an impatient person. As soon as John acquiesced to doing laundry, he’d stripped off his shirt, saying, “Oh thank God, I thought I was gonna die if I had to wear a wet shirt any longer.” He tossed the shirt at John, who had quite suddenly gone scarlet. “Are you okay, dude? You’re looking a little peaky. Better get the wet clothes off before you get sick, um, sick-er.” Alex successfully convinced himself that was the only reason he wanted John to take his shirt off.

John nodded his head jerkily, dropped Alexander’s shirt on the floor, and said “Sure,” before stripping his own shirt off. Alex’s throat went dry. He convinced himself that it was because of the impending cold, not the sight of John’s abs. He figured that conventional modesty would force one of them to the bathroom to finish stripping off the wet clothes. He figured wrong. John seemed to have no qualms about just fully stripping in front of Alexander. His hands went to the tie on his sweatpants, and Alex let out a squeak. As soon as the tie was undone and John began exposing his checkered boxers and miles of toned legs, Alex had to excuse himself before he caught fire, shorted out, or did something very, very rash. “I’ll…I’ll uh—give me a minute.” And disappeared to the bathroom.

\--

A good while later, when Alex was _absolutely positive_ John could no longer be changing, Alex stuck his head out the bathroom door. He breathed a sigh of equal parts relief and regret when he saw John, mostly reclothed and sitting on the end of his bed texting. He tossed the pile of damp clothes at John, laughing when he yelped. “Can you grab me some sweats?”

John set his phone down. “Sure.”

Once Alex had pants on, he skipped out of the bathroom and moved to his dresser. He had half a mind to clean the kitchen without a shirt on, seeing as it was gonna get dirty anyway (and also maybe just maybe to give John a show) but he decided that was a bad idea as well as irrational and impractical and instead threw on a ragged t-shirt.

John stood, grabbing his laundry hamper from the foot of his bed, tossing Alex’s clothes inside. “I’ll be back soon. Probably. Depends on how good I am at not fucking up technology.” Alex shot him a _look_ , which he responded with a defensive “What?”

“John, honey,” _shit that was supposed to sound sarcastic not endearing,_ “Not that I’m not enjoying the view or anything,” and with this he very deliberately looked John up and down _I hope to god he thinks I’m joking even though I’m not_  “but don’t you wanna put a shirt on before going out?”

John looked down at his bare torso. “Oh.”

\--

Alex had cleaned the entire kitchen _and_ made his bed, and John still wasn’t back. He lay on his bed, feet on the wall, gazing at the ceiling. He tried to tamp down the ricocheting thoughts fired off from his brain. There were any number of reasons why John wasn’t back yet. There had been a lot of laundry to do. Neither of them actually knew where the laundry was; maybe he’d gotten a bit lost. Maybe it was a small machine and would take a couple loads. Whatever it was, John had left a pent-up roommate with an overactive imagination behind, still buzzing with adrenaline from the accidental strip show.

Alex took to pacing the room. He might wear a hole in the carpet before John returned. As he did, he took to thinking. Immediate thoughts about John were pushed away, ones about him being shirtless or stripping. Much as he might want to, Alexander was _not_ going to risk jerking off when John could reappear at any time. Fantasies about that particular situation happening were also strictly off-limits.

Instead, he started wondering about the fucking sports bag that was sitting at the base of John’s bed. It really shouldn’t have bothered Alex that much, it was just a sport. Who cared if Alex didn’t know what it was? It wasn’t like _some dirty secret_ or anything. It wasn’t as if John was doing it out of spite. _It’s just a silly joke. He thinks it’s funny. No big deal._

But the not knowing burned, itched a hole in the back of his mind. Alex had always been the one to know _everything,_ been right up front with an answer. It was a hubris of his; he needed to know how things worked, why they worked, know it faster and better than anyone else. Needed to prove himself, prove that he could learn and earn his place. It was stupid. But still, Alex caught himself gazing absentmindedly at the bag. _I could just go look through, see if there are any clues,_ his reckless side said.

_No, that’s not fair to him._

_But he doesn’t need to know. Nobody does._

_But you’d know._

_But it would be so easy, just a quick peek._

_Don’t._

_It’s not like he has some massive secret hidden in there._

As it so often did, Hamilton’s reckless side won out. Casting guilty peeks at the door the whole time, Alex rolled off his bed and sat on the floor next to the bag. He lifted the top. Inside, there were about fifty rolls of athletic tape, three pairs of goggles, a towel, a swim cap. A wealth of information for Alex. It was evident John was doing a water sport. Probably swimming, diving, or water polo. He couldn’t think of any others.

Hastily zipping up the top, Alex opened one of the side pouches, hoping to narrow it down. A small book fell out of one and landed on the floor. It looked like one of those recycled-paper ones, the ones you could sew extra pages into. Alex smiled fondly. _Of course he has a recycled notebook. It fits him perfectly._ It was well worn, the binding splitting; it looked like it got used a lot. His rational side screaming at him, Alex cracked open the book, hoping to find a meet time log or a dive list or maybe a score sheet.

Instead, he opened the front cover to see a page filled with doodles. He smiled fondly. The page was covered in little green-and-blue drawings of baby turtles, some swimming, some sitting on rocks. Realizing that this was in fact not a book related at all to a sport, and was indeed more personal to John, Alex made to close it. _No more snooping. Sports are one thing, his journal is another._ He fully intended to let it be, put it back and forget he saw it, but then a sheet slipped out from between one of the middle pages. He made to put it back without looking, but then he flipped it over to see if there was a number or a designation, and saw what was on it. And when he did, his brain melted.

The little sheet was covered in dozens of absentminded doodles, scratchy hearts and words, the letters scribbled over many times as if traced again and again. And they all said varying iterations of

_John Hamilton_

_John Laurens-Hamilton_

_Alexander Laurens_

_Laurens-Hamilton_

And so on and so forth, as if John’s body had been mysteriously inhabited by a schoolgirl with a crush.

**Crush.**

Alexander’s entire world tilted on its axis, the word reeling and ricocheting around the insides of his mind. _Crushcrushcrushcrushcrushcrush holy shit._ Hastily, Alexander picked up the sheet, shoved it between two arbitrary pages in the book, slammed the book back into the bag, and dove into his bed. His head ached with the monstrosity of his discovery. Just thinking it, he gave out a giddy squeal, _John Laurens has a crush on me._ Mind reeling, he set to replaying every moment of the last week that could’ve even been _maybe_ misconstrued. All those moments Alexander had felt he was about to kiss John— _and I could’ve, too. Holy **shit.**_

_During the club fair when he grabbed my hand, that first night when we woke up cuddling on Lafayette’s floor, when he tried to get me to shut up about Jefferson, when he actually **kissed me holy shit o h m y g o d how am I so dense,** literally just now with the flour, oh my god, holy fuck….._

He stayed like this for some time. When John eventually did reappear, the jingle of keys in the lock giving him away, Alexander tensed, before relaxing and pretending to be asleep. John called out, “I’m hooomeee,” his cheery voice booming off the walls. Alex grinned. _Home._ How quickly the small dreary dorm room had come to feel like home, largely because of the sunshiney boy standing in the doorway.

He rolled over, pretending to open his eyes blearily. He cracked a smile, “took you long enough.”

John humphed. “You’re welcome for doing your laundry. I feel so appreciated, truly.”

Alex just chuckled, tempted to shoot John the finger. John sat on his bed, started talking, something about Peggy and a line and not enough soap, but Alex’s brain immediately went into overdrive, analyzing every little move and gesture of John’s. Asking himself _is it really true can it really be true…_

“Alexander?” John’s voice came crashing through his thoughts.

“Hmm?” His head jerked up, startled.

“You okay? You’re really quiet,” John sounded concerned, made a move to stand up, but Alex waved him off. Internally he screamed _yesssss_ but externally he said

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Amen to that, fuck Lafayette for waking us up so early.”

“Mhm. Gonna nap for a bit.” Alex rolled over, clutching his pillow, facing the wall. He had no intention of sleeping. Instead, he thought to himself, _What now? What do I do about it?_ Gears starting to turn, grinding out a plan,

_I have so much work to do._

_  
_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY SOME SHIT HAPPENED.  
> Come scream with me in the comments. It's my favorite thing.
> 
> If you think I've earned it, drop me a kudos, they're my everything.


	12. Alexander's Head Hurts And He Might Have Regrets About It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuyler Sisters throw a party  
> Alexander might have fucked up??? He's not sure  
> He's also terrible at planning  
> John is oblivious, until he isn't
> 
> TW; underage drinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter makes me really really excited for the big finale, and I can't wait for you guys to read it! I'm so invested in this story aaaaaaaaaaaaaa
> 
> Imsorry this took longer than a couple days, but I procrastinated a little bit, whoopsies. 
> 
> I start school in two days, so the next update might take just a litttttleeeee bit longer.

 “Alexander!” A commanding voice rang across the crowded hall of Washington’s Government Studies class. Alex was snapped out of his current reverie about...well, the same thing he was always thinking about as of three days ago. The page in front of him was decorated with half-assed doodles and scribbles, most of them illegible, crossed out, or erased. Looking down at it, he realized just how little clue he actually had. The word  ‘ _plan?’_  was doodled haphazardly across the top. Very little was written underneath it.

~~Letter?~~

~~Poem?~~

~~Serenade?~~ ~~ß~~ ~~Wtf u can’t sing dumbass~~

_Yeah… I’m a mess._

Alex flinched on instinct; sure he’d done something wrong or pissed someone else off. He folded the paper in two, slid it smoothly between two books as he stood up. He turned in the direction of the voice, preparing himself for a fight. He tried to categorize just _who_ he’d pissed off in the week since classes had started (so far there were about 25 candidates. Narrow it down to just his current classmates….6). Staring suspiciously around, he tried to pinpoint who had yelled at him. Looking for a fight, he was instead met with the purposeful stride of a determined Angelica Schuyler.

She was mesmerizing to watch, really. As if unconsciously, the crowd parted before her, giving her space to smoothly slide between them all. It was almost as if she wasn’t really walking, but more gliding. Alex always got a little dizzy watching her. She had the kind of command over a room he could only hope to emulate. A simple gesture, the lift of an eyebrow or flick of a wrist, gave everyone immediate pause and clear understanding. A beautiful power to watch her wield, but daunting to have focused his way. She came to a stop in front of him, and simply looked at him a second. She cut an imposing figure, several inches taller than him, with an air of careless grace. A beat.

“Well…am I not worth a hello?”

He grinned. “Nice to see you too, Angie. Any particular reason you had half the hall staring at me?” He loved calling her Angie, it was the one thing he’d worked out so far that bothered her. He was determined to discover more.

“Christ, Xander, is it good to see your face. I’ve looked over half of campus for you.” He sounded equal parts exasperated and fond. To be fair, that was how she always sounded when talking to him.

“Again, why?” He racked his brain, but could not come up with a reason for her being angry with him. Well… there was the Jefferson thing. But that was hardly fair, it had been _days…_

She huffed. “Look around. It’s Friday. The first Friday of the official school year. This is the night where history happens, where kids get to abuse the power of being kids perpetually left home alone. Most get illicitly wasted, some find insane parties to go to…what are you planning?”

Alex gave a wry smile. “That felt a little like you were encouraging me to do something illegal, Miss Schuyler. But you would never do such a thing, now would you?”

“Answer the question.”

“Um, study? Work on this Civ essay I have due on Thursday—“

She threw her hands into the air. The look she gave him practically pinned him to the wall, it was so intense. “Alexander Fucking Hamilton. No you don’t. Take a break for what will be the only free Friday night of your college career and come have a fucking party. Coincidentally, I’m having a party, and you’d better be there. I will check. And if you aren’t, I will personally break into your dorm room and drag your ass there.”

There was nothing for Alexander to do but laugh. “Text me the address.” Angelica smiled triumphantly.

“Victory. I’m glad we’re in agreement.” A pause. “And before Eliza or Peggy could ask you, too. That took, what, maybe two, maybe three minutes?” She checked her watch, and smiled again before striding off. Alex was left standing in her wake, feeling slightly as if he’d been duped into something he wasn’t aware of yet. It was unsettling. He’d never met someone who ran mental laps around him the way Angelica did. But he found he didn’t  much mind;  if anything, it only made him admire her more. Silently, he resolved himself to send her letters once she graduated and became CEO of the world.

\--

“Hey, John?”

“Mm?” John was bent over a textbook, armed to the teeth with highlighters, a notebook, and pens. _That angle looks painful, honestly, how is his neck not in agony?_ But Alexander couldn’t blame John; his Anatomy class looked like a headache and a half, and it seemed that he was determined to stay afloat. Alexander took a moment to admire him quietly from his position across the room. The sharp lines of his cheekbones were illuminated by the desklamp, his curls thrown into sharp relief. _He looks like a Renaissance painting._ It was still a dizzying thought, that the Adonis in front of him could like him. It was tempting, the knowledge that he could just take two strides across the room and kiss him senseless, and not be met with complaint. He didn’t, though. The bravado in him couldn’t. The knowledge that John deserved nothing but the best held him back, encouraged him to confess in the best way possible. _And there are so many possibilities._

Mentally changing tack before he accidentally said something he didn’t want to (yet), “Did you get invited to...” _But what if he hasn’t, I’ll look rude, like I’m rubbing it in._

“Alexander. We have the same friends.” _Oh, right._

“So, are you going?”

John slowly and deliberately raised his head, stared him right in the eyes. He quirked an eyebrow, with a look that said _seriously?_ Slowly, putting on the Southern drawl, he said, “Yes I am.” Alex imagined he said in the same sort of tone one might say ‘bless your heart’.

 _Okay, shit, that’s sort of hot._ Alexander’s cheeks flamed. He started to silently berate himself _stop thinking like that you ca—_ before the realization struck that _yes I can._ The simple idea made his stomach swoop as if he’d fallen from a skyscraper. He did his best to look as if his head wasn’t filled with a thousand fantasies he now realized he could totally reenact if he wanted. “Yeah, okay. Stupid question. Better question: did you get a time? Angelica hasn’t texted me yet.”

John indicated with his phone, “8:30. Eliza texted me.” With that, he dropped his head, returning to the land of ligaments and tendons and metatarsal-carpal-whatever-they-were-s.

\--

Alexander had to admit that Angelica Schuyler knew how to throw a party. He supposed it helped that she lived off campus, in a massive loft apartment that her dad rented for her. Everyone knew the Schuylers were old money, it was one of the first things he’d heard about them, but _this_ was impressive. There were more people there than Alex had met in his entire life, there was an _open bar,_ and bone-rattling music pumped from a wall of speakers at the far end of the room. She’d actually managed to find fucking _strobe lights_ , for crying out loud. The room was chaotic, a writing mass of bodied in the center illuminated by red, blue, green, purple, green, blue, yellow…

Alexander’s head was already pounding. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate parties, per se. Usually, he loved them, loved being right in the thick of it, reveled in the way one could absolutely lose control of themselves and just let go. It was _primal._ Any other day, and he would’ve been right in the center of that dance floor, grinding and letting loose. Angelica had been right about the illicitly wasted thing; any other night and he would’ve been among those downing tequila and rum without abandon.

Any other night. Tonight, though, he was sitting off to the side, watching. He tried not to let his eyes trail too long over the sight of his roommate dancing. It was difficult; he was enchanting. Instead, he took up permanent residence at the  bar, moodily nursing a pint of Sam Adams. He was presented with a difficult problem. On one hand, it was perfectly plausible that he could just march up to John, offer no explanation, and just shove his tongue down his throat. There were very few negative outcomes for that one, and hell, it was _enticing._ On the other hand, the romantic in him refused to let that happen. _This isn’t some one-night fling where it happens and then we avoid each other forever. This is special. This is….this is…._ he refused to let himself think that word. Not when there was alcohol in his system. Nope.

The question, really, was how to go about doing it. He’d contemplated writing a note or a letter, but realized how impersonal it could get. Really, there was only one option, when it came down to it; this was not a job for words. Alexander would have to convince John of his l— _feelings_ by actions, rather than words. The small hiccup was that words were what he did best. _Hmm…._

A cheery Eliza Schuyler flitted over to him, obviously a little tipsy herself. She jostled his elbow as she sat down, nearly spilling her drink on him. After studying his face for a moment, she said, “You look like you’re planning a murder. Can I help? If not, give me an alibi.”

Alexander laughed, but did not meet her eyes. He started playing with a coaster, flipping it end over end.  “No murder. I promise. Just…working some shit out.” _Can I tell her? Can I??_

He was saved from deliberation by Eliza’s giggle. “It’s because you’re in love with John, isn’t it?” He dropped the coaster. Eliza giggled again, obviously entertained by his ramrod posture and furtive glances around. She must have seen the question forming on his face, because she waved a hand, saying, “Call it a feeling. Now tell me everything.”

Alexander became very focused on his coaster once more. “C’mon, let me inside that heart of yours, Hamilton.”

With a deep sigh, he looked up at her. “My dearest Betsy, there is not enough alcohol in the world for that particular conversation.”

She grinned at him, waving a hand at the barman. “Well, we can fix that, can’t we?” She squeezed his shoulder conspiratorially. To the barman, “A round of tequila, please.”

“Now tell me everything.”

So he did.

\--

Alexander wasn’t sure what time it was. Wasn’t sure where Bestey had gone, but was sure she’d left. Her whispered advice still hung in his ears, “You just have to come out and say it, tell him. It doesn’t have to be rose petals and chocolates, a dramatic confession. Just be you. I promise it’ll all work out.” He wrinkled his nose. It wasn’t that good advice, not really. He already _knew_ it was going to work out, just needed it to be perfect. Slowly, he laid his cheek against the cool surface of the bar, smiling as it alleviated his headache.

He was awoken from this stupor by someone’s hands on his shoulders. “Alex!” Someone was shouting right near his ear. Groggily, he lifted his head, and was greeted with the grinning face of the someone that was causing his headache.

“John! I was just thinking about you!” _Now why did you say that? No idea._

John stared at him for a second, no doubt waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t he simply shook his head, tugging Alex to his feet. “Come dance with me. Herc and Laf left me for chatting with the Schuylers. But I love this song!” John’s face was open and pleading, and honestly, how could Alex say no to that?

Even as his head screamed at him _bad idea bad idea_ , the concept of John’s body so close to his, plus dancing, made him say “Yes.”

\--

John was a really good dancer. It was disorienting, and, uh _arousing. Just another thing I can love about him._ He was too drunk at this point to consider the ramifications of that thought.

The room was dark and crowded, the strobe lights giving Alexander a headache. Everything felt precarious and wobbly, like it was balanced on the edge of a knife. And indeed, everything Alex did felt a little as if he was skirting closer and closer to sudden doom. It was entirely his own fault when he looked at John that way, the way that had gotten him laid many a time. It was his fault when he made as if to kiss John, moving closer and closer and watching his eyes darken steadily, only to pull away at the last moment. He was also too drunk to protest when John started leaning into him, putting his hands around his waist, dancing closer and closer, ghosting lips against his neck. That last one felt _nice._ And Alexander would be damned if he ever made Laurens stop.

He didn’t know quite how long it took before he snapped. The brain to mouth filter just completely dissipated, and Alexander was rambling. “You know, you’re really good at dancing. It makes you look so pretty. I mean, you always look pretty, but especially when you’re dancing. It’s just another thing I l—appreciate about you.”   _Shit, that was a close save._ Luckily for him, Laurens seemed a little preoccupied himself. Alex wouldn’t be surprised if a), he woke up with hickey the next morning, and b), John hadn’t heard a word he’d said. It was that second thought that led him to contentedly tipping his head back, and letting himself keep talking. “And I mean, I knew it for a while but never wanted to say, and I didn’t want to lose you, but then I found your notebook…”

John’s head snapped up. _Ah, so he was listening._ Alex expected the next moment to be something along the lines of a confession, hell, he was already halfway there himself. But instead, John let go of him and stepped back. Confused, Alexander turned to face him, only to see that John looked _scared._ And there was no way to miss how his voice cracked when he bit out the words “I have to go” before fleeing the room.

\--

Angelica and Elizabeth Schuyler were giving him the kind of look usually reserved for therapy sessions. They swooped onto the dancefloor, grabbed him by the wrists, and pulled him into another room. As soon as Alexander was away from the loud music, he felt all the energy leave him. All he wanted to do now was go to sleep. Eliza sat him gently in a chair, and said, “Oh, honey. What happened?”

 _Why does she look so concerned?_ His eyes were stinging. He scrubbed at them, trying to will the exhaustion away. Instead, his hands came away wet. _Am I crying? Why am I crying? What the hell is happening?_  “I, um, don’t know?” His voice sounded feeble, even to his own ears. Everything had happened so _fast,_ and all he’d meant to do was tell John he loved him. It had all gone very wrog in a very short time, and he wasn’t sure why.

Angelica made a weird sort of grumbling noise, and said to him, “Alright. So you’re drunk. Very, by the looks of it.” She turned to face her sister, expression stern. “‘Liza, how much did he drink?”

Eliza shrugged. “Not too much, I didn’t think. Guess I was wrong.” Turning back to Alexander, whose head had lolled forward onto his chest, she asked, “Honey, why did John run away from you?”

Suddenly he was very, very awake. His head shot up, and his heart plummeted all the way down to his boots. He didn’t know exactly why, but he knew he was in trouble. “I didn’t do anything bad! I just told him he looked pretty and that I found his notebook…”

Eliza’s face was quite a sight to see. Her mouth was a perfect **o** , and she had gone quite pale. Angelica looked at her, questions all over her face, to which Eliza just said “I’ll tell you later.”

Angelica was unimpressed. “Whose ass do I have to kick?”

Eliza laughed quietly. “Nobody’s, yet.” To Alexander, she said, “Sweetie, you’re drunk. I’m going to drive you home, alright?”

Alexander’s pride would have taken quite a beating at the concept of being the drunk friend that had to be driven home early, but really, he was so _tired._ Too tired to argue. So instead, he merely nodded, and let Eliza direct him into her car out back.

\--

Sunlight was out to get him, Alexander decided. It had _no right_ to come into his own home and make him feel this uncomfortable. A groan from across the room echoed his sentiments. _So John got home okay._ Alex didn’t remember much from the night previous, other than riding home in Eliza’s car. He chuckled quietly, instantly regretting it when pain lanced through his skull.

“Fuck, my head hurts.” came John’s voice from across the room, followed by a dull thump. Alex couldn’t see for the mountain of blankets piled over his head, but he figured John had just rolled away from the sun and into the wall.

Alex felt vaguely as if his skull were splitting in half. He lifted the blanket long enough to say “Speak again and I’ll…I’ll…something.”

John chuckled dully. “You hungover too?”

Alex just groaned in response.

\--

Several hours later, the hangover had somewhat abated. Alex still didn’t feel like moving from bed. He;d gotten up long enough to take some Advil, close the curtains, and crawl back into bed. He hadn’t left since. That suited him just fine, though. From there he could hide under covers, mutter to himself about plans, and hide from that dreadful sunlight. He could also make false promises about never drinking again.

There was no need for hiding at the moment, though. John had already left. John was distinctly better at handling hangovers than Alex. He’d gotten up for a shower, actually had food, and generally been a functioning human for an hour or so. Then he’d left, muttering something about “practice” before swinging out the door. It was one of the few words they’d said to each other all morning. Alex figured noise was just really difficult amid the pounding headache.

He still didn’t believe John about “practice.” His sports bag was still sitting untouched from where Alex had left it a few days previous; shoved under John’s bed. He didn’t press, though, content to have the room to himself. He could ask later. _I trust him._  

Meanwhile, he was going to spend his time dwelling on the night before. He couldn’t remember anything after Eliza had gotten him drunk and been an amateur therapist. But still, something was nagging at him, a squirmy, dark thing deep in his stomach. It felt sort of like guilt. _I did something bad, didn’t I? What could it be?_

Also, Betsey had said something that had given him an idea. _“It doesn’t have to be all rose petals…”_ It was time to get to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well fuck that was a rollercoaster ride.   
> Are you guys noticing the formatting parallels I've done here? Go back a few chapters........... ;)))
> 
> What do you think the Big Reveal plan is? I'm always so excited to hear your theories it gives me really good ideas. 
> 
> WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS HAS MORE THAN 2K READS WHAT IS GOING ON I LOVE YOU GUYS SO MUCH AHHHHHH
> 
> drop me a comment if you want someone to scream with!!!!


	13. Alexander Hamilton Has A Headache And Also A Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD I'VE BEEN GONE SO LONG I'M SO SORRY
> 
> Huge thank you to everyone who still read this and commented politely asking about updates and complimenting me on the work while I was gone (why are you all still here lmao I dropped off the face of the planet)
> 
> WHAT DO YOU MEAN THIS HAS OVER 5000 READS OMFG WHAT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex has a headache, takes a walk, and stumbles upon a great idea.
> 
> John mopes about for a bit.
> 
> Lafayette is thoroughly done with both of these morons.

Once the headache abated, it took Alexander approximately ten minutes to decide that he wasn’t going to survive being shut up on his own in the dorm. Between the half-baked plans swirling through his brain and the nagging “I did something” feeling at the back of his skull, he felt as if he might implode if he didn’t get out of the room. One could only pace the same five-foot length of carpet so often before losing their mind.

He grabbed a notebook off his desk, ensuring that none of the pages, cards, or pens were falling out before he took it. A hoodie at random was swiped from the floor and thrown on, Alex not even paying attention. Instead, he started mentally composing his note to John in case he came back and Alex was gone. It was possible; sometimes when Alex went wandering, it took hours before his feet brought him back. Even longer if something was troubling him.

Eventually, he settled on a short, simple “ _went out. Haven’t died. Be back soon, H”_ pinned to the fridge. If half of the things he remembered from the previous night were correct, Alex knew it would be risky to write much more. Everything was still fuzzy and incoherent, misty voids where concrete fact should have been, but even so, Alex knew something last night had gone wrong. Anything else could be unraveled with the help of fresh air and coffee.

_Coffee as a peace offering? Probably a good idea._

Then, he swiped his keys from the table, tugged on some shoes, and slipped out the door.

If Alex was honest with himself, it had probably been a while since he’d been in the sun. Not the sort of haphazard encounter that came with running from a bus to a building and back again, but _really_ been in the sun. Just because he could. He had to admit, it was refreshing. Also, it was _cold._ He burrowed himself further into the hoodie he wore, realizing belatedly that it wasn’t his. _Shit._

Well, it was too late to go back to the dorm by now, Alex told himself. If John noticed that the hoodie was gone, _oh well._ Also it smelled like John, so. Added bonus.

~

Alexander had no idea how he’d found this park. He had no idea where he was. Directions were not his strong suit. He’d taken a left at the end of the block, wandered past a coffee shop or maybe a bookstore, taken another left—or maybe it was a right—and then…well, he was here now. How he was going to get back, he had no idea. He shelved that problem for a later date. What was his strong suit, however, was recognizing a good opportunity when it was placed in front of him.  That was why he found himself wandering slowly around the park, drinking in the atmosphere of the place, allowing an idea to swirl and come together, piece by piece, taking shape in his brain.

It wasn’t very large, not really, but substantial enough to make Alexander feel as if he wasn’t really in New York anymore, but rather somewhere where he could take a moment and breathe. Trees stretched their arms multiple stories over his head, creating a thick canopy of green shielding him from the bustle of downtown. The noise of traffic and bustle faded to a muffled static the further he wandered, replaced by the burbling of a stream.

The air still had the sharp bite of October in New York, but it had the slower, relaxed atmosphere of somewhere warmer, somewhere calmer…

Swirling water and storm clouds swept their way through his brain, the sharp crack of lightning smashing any and all sense of peace Alex may have had. He shook himself out of his—quite unwelcome--reverie. _You’re in New York. You’re safe._ He took a deep breath. No smell of salt pervaded the air. The sky was thin, clear cerulean. _You’re in a park downtown. You’re safe._

 _Anyways._ An idea was coming together, and the more Alexander explored the park, the more he decided it was perfect. The space was relatively secluded, behind a cluster of brownstone buildings that he had no name for; indeed, if he’d known what they were he could have probably figured out how to get back to the dorm later. It wasn’t large; there was a little forested area with a winding path through it, pine needles carpeting the floor and blanketing his footsteps. Gazing between the trees, Alex felt as if he could keep going for miles and not come across a city street. He felt alone, secluded but comfortable. _Perfect._

Further down the path, the trees cleared, giving way to a little field. The flower bushes were slightly wilted, orange blooms drooping towards the ground. Alex looked up, and grinned. The trees had receded here; the view above was unmarred. _Perfect._

In the center of the field, there were a couple of stone benches surrounding a pond. That explained the splashing sound—the pond was fed by a stream from the other end of the clearing. Between the hush from the trees, the chirping of birds, and the splashing of turtles ( _turtles!)_ in the pond, Alex had all but forgotten about the hustle and bustle and panic of the city a hundred yards away.

And spanning across the pond, dripping with lilies and bathed in sunlight like a goddamn Monet painting? A stone bridge. With the sight of it, Alex knew, he had a plan. He pulled out his phone, mentally composing a list of supplies and assistants, and began texting Lafayette.

\--

John was having a shitty day. Like, really shitty. Now, waking up at 5am with a splitting headache and hangover was never pleasant, but it somehow managed to get worse from there. As memories from the previous night began filtering their way into his brain, he contemplated lots of things, including but not limited to: screaming, crying, never speaking to Alexander again, and shredding the damn notebook. Or maybe burning it. _Burning sounds good._

He remembered all too well dancing with Alexander, the shivery excitement of it, as if electricity were zinging along underneath his skin. He remembered just fucking _giving up_ on holding himself in check, and resolving to blame the alcohol as he kissed his way down Alexander’s neck. He remembered that _very well._ He also didn't regret it as much as the circumstances probably warranted.

Which....was probably part of the problem.

_Good god, what on earth was I thinking? No wonder he said something. I basically forced his hand._

Of course, the other shoe had had to drop at some point. It was inevitable, and just so fucking common in John’s life. Alexander had done what he was just so good at; started talking. And that would have been fine, if it weren’t for what he’d been saying. He’d found the fucking book, found John’s heart splattered across the pages, and he’d just _had_ to say something. Not that John could blame him; he’d have done the exact same thing if the roommate he didn’t-like-that-way had a notebook like that. So Alex had confronted John, and John hadn’t been able to deal. He hadn’t wanted to deal.

To be fair, John hadn’t heard the rest of what Alex had been saying. He couldn’t bring himself to. He was no stranger to rejection, to the sharp bite and lingering ache of knowing you just weren’t good enough, weren’t enough for them. Henry Laurens had taught John about rejection very well. So John had heard the first few words that Alex said, and decided that he wouldn’t force himself through the sting of it again. It was all understood anyway; John was creepy and desperate, and had crossed the line somewhere around kissing him to make Jefferson leave (yeah, that was the reason, sure. That was very believable, and Alex totally _wasn't fooled._ Sure, John). Alexander was a friend, sure, but that--all the creepy, romantic shit--had all become too much for him, and so he would take the first opportunity to politely excuse himself from John’s life. John knew the routine. _I’ll tell him it’s all understood anyways, the next time I see him._

John remembered all too well the next few hours; him fleeing the room and finding somewhere to hide and curl in on himself as his heart shattered, him crying himself to oblivion at the bottom of a closet, Hercules and Lafayette finding him there and dragging him out, the two of them sharing concerned glances as John had far more alcohol than was necessary and told them the story. Neither of them commented, and John had been too out of it to notice the confused and concerned looks they shared as John continued to drunkenly ramble. And somehow he’d wound up back in his dorm, Alexander just as hungover as he was and neither of them willing to address the reasons why the previous night had been so shit. Maybe neither of them remembered at first, but “at first” could only last so long.

If John was lucky, Alex wouldn’t remember the previous night at all.

Not that luck had ever really been on John Laurens' side. 

So John had left the dorm. Much earlier than was necessary, or enjoyable, given the circumstances. But it was better to do that than to wait around for one of them to break the stony, pained silence and instead bring about vocal, physical pain. He’d muttered something about the gym or maybe the library, grabbed his coat, and swept out of the room before he could look at Alex and burst into tears again.

Which brought him here. Here was not the library, nor was it the gym, and it wasn’t randomly wandering the streets of New York at 6am either. It had been, for a while, until he’d caved and called Laf, hoping not to be eviscerated for waking them up so early. It had been a close call, but eventually Laf's sympathetic side won out. Here was now lying on Lafayette’s couch, ignoring their disapproving looks as he was encouraged “just talk to him, ami. I am sure it was just a misunderstanding.” Lafayette was understanding enough to let John mope around on their couch, however they were not understanding enough to let him do so in silence.

And so John was subjected to disapproving glares, mutterings in French, mutterings in English, and more glares and so on, for about three hours. But John was stubborn and mopey, and Lafayette eventually cracked. Which was how they wound up watching Pixar movies on the couch, surrounded by chocolate and tea. At some point, Laf invited Hercules over, and the two curled together on the couch under a blanket. John smiled to himself at the sight of it, filing it away to be mentioned when he wasn’t busy feeling sorry for himself. He was glad, though. They would be good to each other. Hell, they were attached at the hip anyway.

All in all, it was a pretty good way to deal with the fallout of a broken heart.

(Until they watched Up).

\--

Lafayette was thoroughly frustrated with the two idiots. All they had to do was ­ _talk to each other­ to sort this out, but no,_ that would be too difficult. _Merde_. Somehow, Laurens had managed to run away in the middle of a damn confession, not hear any of the important parts, and then convince himself that it hadn’t been a confession at all, but rather some form of rejection. Now, Laf knew that Alexander was tactless, and they knew that Laurens knew that he was tactless, however even they found it difficult to believe John could think Alex would have such horrible timing. 

Just thinking that sentence gave them a headache.

It was mystifying to Lafayette how John had been so close to what he'd been longing for, and hadn't even been able to see it, or even sense that it was time to do some waiting to find out. It made some sense; John was not patient. There was a reason he and Alexander were so good for one another, after all. 

Now, Lafayette was a firm believer in not meddling in others’ affairs. They were also sure that the two idiots only needed to talk to one another, and that is was not Laf’s place to intervene. It would ruin all the good parts of this story being told fifteen years in the future if Lafayette were to ruin it now. As they say, no spoilers. Even so, there was a small part of them that saw John lying dejectedly on their couch, staring blankly at nothing, and wanted to shake him by the shoulders and scream “he loves you!” Now, Alexander had never specifically said that word. It seemed to Laf that he didn't want to. But, Laf was not blind. They had seen the way he looked at Laurens, as if he was responsible for the sun rising in the morning. They had seen the way he was gentle and calm around John, as if remembering that life could be slow and calm around him. Which, frankly, _merci dieu,_ because Laurens was very good at being angry and fast-paced himself. If Alex had had more energy, the two may have exploded.

 _Ou_ _allais-je avec cette? Ah, oui._

Alex cared for John. That much was obvious to them. Somehow, John had not, ah, gotten the memo. And the same in reverse; John obviously loved Hamilton, and yet Hamilton was too wrapped in his own doubts to see it. Lafayette only hoped one of them would step forward and fix it. (They were betting on it being Hamilton; the man was good with words).

Lafayette felt their phone buzz from somewhere within the tangle of blankets and limbs and snacks that was themself and Mulligan. So, yes, this was a good arrangement for them. Mulligan was like a fire, large and warm and inviting. And while Laf was fully inclined to stay right there and not move for many hours, the text they had just received from Hamilton was certainly compelling.

**Hamilton (10:54)**

So I mightve fucked up with john last night don’t KILL ME I HAVE A PLAN TO FIX IT but I need ur help. Meet me at Target in half an hour? Will need supplies.

**Lafayette (10:55)**

Whatever youre planning better be good, the boy is quite upset. I will be there.

**Hamilton (10:55)**

trust me it is

 

Laf angled their phone slightly, nudging Hercules in the ribs to get his attention. They watched Herc’s face as they read the screen, saw his eyebrows lift in comprehension as he understood what Laf was silently asking. Aloud, Herc said: “Hey, John, come get drinks with me?”

John, buried under about fifteen blankets and a heavy layer of sorrow, groaned. “Do I have to?”

Herc grinned “that depends on how much you enjoy drinks that are drinkable.”

Lafayette wasn’t sure that made sense, but okay. It was an opportunity they could use. As John dragged himself off the couch, Lafayette grabbed their wallet and keys and slipped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE SO MUCH IF YOUVE ACTUALLY BOTHERED TO READ THIS FAR
> 
> i am so so so so so sorry for disappearing this long, I really am. School started and I got hella distracted and also got used to now writing anymore, so this chapter is about 6 months overdue. Yikes.
> 
> I love every single person who read and commented on and bookmarked and kudos-ed this fic since I disappeared, reading all the notifications in the last couple weeks gave me enough motivation to write this (moderately crappy filler) chapter. I love you I love you I love you !!!
> 
> Also, since this has been stewing in my brain for a while, I've got some more ideas. There's gonna be at least one more chapter (which would be VERY lengthy) or maybe 2-3 more, depending on how much fluff I think I can pack into one fic. Bear with me, guys!
> 
> ALL THE LOVE TO EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU YOU'RE ALL FANTASTIC HUMANS DESERVING OF AFFECTION


	14. Not quite a chapter....

okay so i have no idea if people still read this fic but i was going back through my email and saw about a million comments and kudos on this fic. and i lowkey feel really bad for leaving people hanging and not having updated it in forever. I would actually like to finish this fic off if there's anybody still around to read it. 

this fic for me was largely a coping mechanism for me to deal with lotsa shit things that were happening in my life while i was writing it; i literally spent as much time as i possibly could on writing it so i didn't have to deal with people. I'm personally in a much better place now than i was then (astronomically so) and I think it'd be very nice to come full circle and give Alex and John the happy ending they deserve after so long being unhappy/left in suspense. 

So, yeah, rambling over, if there's anybody that still reads this fic and/or wants to see it finished, drop me a comment and I'll start working on the final chapter. 

Love you all,

xxx, 

H


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